


Falling Ain't the Half Of It

by hostilovi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Body Horror, Bonding, Chronic Pain, Coping, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilovi/pseuds/hostilovi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembered having power. Remembered being limitless, what it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hand. He remembered his wings, wide and white, imbued with all the light of his being. And he remembered flying with all of his siblings.</p><p>He remembered pain.</p><p>He remembered the Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta @boatsandburbs!

He remembered having power. Remembered being limitless, what it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hand. He remembered his wings, wide and white, imbued with all the light of his being. And he remembered flying with all of his siblings.

He remembered pain.

He remembered the Fall.

Akaashi woke up sweating, shoulders aching, breath coming in shaky gasps.

Another dream.

With a soft groan, he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. After some fumbling among the rumpled bedsheets, he managed to roll over and squinted at the time on the clock across the room. Too early, by far. But he doubted he would be able to get back to sleep, not after that nightmare.

Was it still a nightmare if it was a memory?

Akaashi managed to lever himself onto his feet and stumble into the kitchen, chugging down a glass of water and glaring out into the dim morning sunlight spilling through the window. His shoulders and back hurt more than usual. He reached for the jumbo bottle of aspirin on the counter and swallowed a few down. Maybe today, it would help.

Marginally more awake, Akaashi returned to his bedroom, falling back into the unmade bed—little more than a mattress shoved into the corner of the room.

Flashes of the dream came back to him. He cringed away from the visions, curling up and opening his eyes again. They were all too familiar—red stained feathers falling around him, the feel of blood sliding hot and acidic down his back, wind rushing around his body like thousands of knives. The sound of voices calling out to him, desperate, sorrowful.

But still he Fell.

It had been a matter of months, though it felt like an eternity to Akaashi. His new human skin still felt unbearable fragile. He was not completely without power. But it was nothing compared to what he used to have. What he used to be.

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself. His voice fell flat in the empty room. “Just stop.”

It took a while, but the painkillers kicked in to some degree. Akaashi dressed and left the house for his shift at the grocery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You look like shit,” Iwaizumi said as Akaashi mindlessly stacked cabbages in the proper area. Akaashi barely glanced at him.

“More than the usual,” he continued as though Akaashi hadn’t ignored him.

“I’m so glad I asked for your opinion.”

“Don’t give me that backtalk. Was it the dreams?” Akaashi didn’t answer, which Iwaizumi seemed to take as an affirmative. “You’re _still_ having those?”

“Because I have so much control over my unconscious mind,” Akaashi said flatly, pausing with a cabbage in hand and shooting Iwaizumi a glare. “You never were my superior, so stop acting like it.”

“Not up there maybe. But down here, I am. Don’t forget, I saved your ass after you Fell.”

As if he would ever let him forget.

“Did you want something?” Akaashi asked, schooling his face to neutrality. “Mister superior?”

“Konoha’s sick, so I need you to take closing. And Oikawa invited you to dinner tomorrow night.”

“No thanks.”

“Wasn’t a question.” Iwaizumi clapped a hand to his shoulder, hard enough that Akaashi nearly stumbled and dropped the damn cabbage. “For either. Be at our place at seven.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Iwaizumi walked away, leaving him to his vegetable stacking. Akaashi barely resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You look like shit,” Oikawa said when he answered the door, making no move to let him inside the apartment. Akaashi fixed him with a flat, thoroughly unimpressed stare. He didn’t care what he looked like. He didn’t care much about the body he had at all, except that it wouldn’t shut up about its needs—it tired easier, got hungry and thirsty, had a lower tolerance for pain.

“That’s what I said,” Iwaizumi’s voice floated out to him. “Now let him in the damn house.”

Oikawa sighed—as though he hadn’t been the one to invite him in the first place—and finally stepped aside. Their apartment smelled, as always, vaguely of cinnamon and something softer, like bird feathers. Akaashi toed off his shoes and followed after Oikawa to the kitchen where Iwaizumi was standing at the stove, aproned and armed with a spoon.

“Curry,” he said by way of explanation.

“Yes, and no matter how formidable your glare is, Iwa-chan, it won’t make it cook any faster,” Oikawa said lightly, making a show of rolling his eyes. While normally Akaashi would humor him and roll his eyes back, he wasn’t feeling up to such a human expression today so he just stared, hoping it got his point across.

Oikawa made a noise of disgust, muttered _angels_ under his breath, and stormed into the other room.

Akaashi stood where he was, wriggling his toes inside his socks.

“You could help,” Iwaizumi grunted out, “and get the plates down.”

“I could.” Akaashi stayed where he was until Iwaizumi turned his head to show off his truly impressive glare. Grudgingly, he retrieved the plates and set the small table. Their apartment was as familiar as his own—almost more, considering he had slept on their couch for the first month of his new life on Earth.

Oikawa returned and retrieved a beer from the fridge. He didn’t bother to offer one to either Akaashi or Iwaizumi, not that they would have taken it. With a sigh, he flopped into his designated chair.

“I mean it, you know. You look terrible,” he said to Akaashi. “Like you never sleep.”

“He’s having the dreams still,” Iwaizumi said.

Akaashi folded his arms, unwilling to say anything as Iwaizumi deemed the curry done and served it up over a steaming bed of rice. He slept enough to get by on. So what if he was having dreams still? Isn’t that what humans did? Dream?

Though he wished he didn’t keep dreaming of the Fall.

“You could try medicine for that, you know. Tons of people take sleeping pills, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I could get you an appointment with our doctor.”

Akaashi took a bite of his food to continue avoiding speaking. Iwaizumi frowned.

“Would it kill you to be polite and answer him?”

“Would you like it if I spoke with a full mouth?” Akaashi shot back. It was easier to look down at his plate than to face their concerned expressions. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m doing fine.”

“You’re downing pain pills like candy. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

“Like you don’t? I’ve seen you,” Akaashi said. He didn’t miss the minute flinch from Iwaizumi, nor the sharp glance Oikawa shot him.

“You haven’t seen shit.”

They glared at each other from across the table.

“So! This is nice. Just friends being friends,” Oikawa broke the tense silence with a sarcastic drawl, taking an inelegant swig of his beer. “Seriously, can’t you guys get along for two minutes? You’re both angels—”

“Fallen angels,” Iwaizumi corrected sharply.

It _hurt._

“—so you have a lot in common already. It’s not like either of you are that terrible of a person, so shape up. Or if you’re going to fight, go do it somewhere else so I can drink in peace.”

Akaashi met Iwaizumi’s gaze, feeling a bit guilty for goading him.

“I’ve cut back,” Akaashi said after a few moments. “And I don’t need a doctor.”

“Fine.”

They ate in relative silence, except for Oikawa’s prodding questions and attempts to get them to talk to each other. Akaashi was relieved when the time to leave came.

“Listen,” Oikawa said, stepping outside with him in his bare feet and half-closing the door—perhaps so Iwaizumi wouldn’t listen in. “All these dreams you’re having, the pain—you need to talk to somebody.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Akaashi said stiffly. “I Fell. I’m coming to terms with that.”

“But you see, I don’t think you are.” Oikawa rubbed at his eyes. “It took Iwa-chan a long time too, don’t get me wrong, but he would at least talk to me about how he was feeling. I just wish you would do the same.”

“He barely likes me.”

“He only gets pissy with people he genuinely likes. You’re one of the few.” Oikawa smiled but it was a tired expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just take care of yourself, okay? Or I’ll hurt you for making him upset.”

Akaashi hesitated, then nodded.

“Goodnight, Akaashi.”

He went back inside before Akaashi could respond further, leaving him to start the slow journey home. It was only a few blocks away to his own apartment, but Akaashi took his time, enjoying the peace of the darkness punctuated by the occasional streetlight.

They were right, of course. He wasn’t coming to terms with anything about his new life. He was barely living at all. As much as he dreaded going to sleep, he dreaded waking up even more.

As Akaashi passed by one of the many dank alleys the small city had, he heard the noises of a struggle from within and paused, squinting into the dark.

He had thought he would see two cats scuffling over territory but instead he saw people. Three people ganging up on one.

“I’m telling you for the last time, hand over your wallet!”

“Look, I’m telling you I don’t have any money on me—”

The solid sound of flesh meeting flesh came from the alley, followed by a whine of pain. Akaashi frowned, wondering if he should intervene.

“Hit him again,” one of them laughed.

Violence was one thing, but cruelty he could not abide. Akaashi stepped into the alley, keeping his back to the light.

“Hey,” he yelled to get their attention. The three men turned, squinting against his backdrop of the lightpost.

“Move along, kid, this is none of your business.”

“Oh, I rather think it is.” Akaashi settled into a fighting stance, one that felt as natural as breathing. “Leave them alone.”

“Think you can take us all on, you punk?” the big one on the left sneered, stalking closer. Akaashi just waited.

When all three moved at the same time, it was no surprise; he had hardly expected any of them to fight fair. The world became crystal-clear around him as he ducked their wide punches, sending them stumbling as they overbalanced. Akaashi’s skin felt on fire with energy, with life.

He smiled.

They swung, he blocked. Akaashi kicked the legs out from underneath the big one, and he smacked his head on the pavement as he fell and did not rise. The other two only seemed more infuriated at this and came at him wildly. Akaashi caught the first’s arm and twisted—it snapped between his hands like brittle wood—and followed up with a punch to his jaw. The other struck a glancing blow to his ribs, but Akaashi barely felt it. He threw an elbow to the mans’ chest, gratified when he stumbled back, wheezing for breath.

One on one, the last man didn’t stand a chance. Akaashi kicked him and sent him flying into the nearby dumpster.

“That all you got?” he asked when none of them came after him.

The men did not move. Perhaps he should have held back more. He lowered his hands, almost disappointed that it was over so soon.

“Wow, are you like, a martial artist or something?” a voice piped up. Akaashi turned his gaze to the person he had just rescued and found himself meeting a pair of near-golden eyes.

“My name’s Bokuto!” the man continued, sounding completely unshaken by what had just occurred. He was even smiling. Akaashi could feel himself staring and pulled his eyes away as he helped him to his feet. “You’re a real lifesaver!”

“It was nothing,” Akaashi said curtly. His knuckles ached. He wanted to go home. His real home, not the cramped apartment he lived in.

“Nothing? That was awesome, man! You came outta nowhere and just— _bam!_ They were down like _that!_ I owe you bigtime. Say, what’s your name?”

“Akaashi,” he replied reluctantly. There was something infectious about Bokuto’s energy that was making his skin itch for another fight.

“Akaashi, huh? Let me buy you drink, Akaashi.”

“I don’t drink.” Alcohol didn’t affect him. Not when he drank in the same quantities as a human. So there was little point to it, when it didn’t even taste all that good to him. Bokuto shrugged, clearly not off-put by Akaashi’s cool, unmodulated tone.

“Coffee then, do you drink coffee?”

Akaashi hesitated and Bokuto immediately brightened.

“Great! Tomorrow morning work for you? There’s this fantastic little place I know, kind of a hole in the wall, but it’s not far from here—actually, hey, why don’t we exchange numbers? That way if something comes up we can reschedule—”

Bokuto was already pulling out his cellphone by the time Akaashi managed to say, “I don’t have a phone.”

And why would he? The only people he would call were Iwaizumi or Oikawa. He had no desire to deal with either of them more than he already did. Bokuto’s jaw dropped slightly, eyes widening.

“Seriously?” Then he seemed to lose some of his energy. “Look, hey, if you don’t want to get coffee with me, that’s fine, you don’t have to make up stuff to get out of it.”

Seeing his opportunity for free coffee starting to slip away, Akaashi attempted a smile to hopefully salvage the situation.

“No, I seriously don’t have a phone. But I would very much like to get coffee with you.”

He would very much like to get coffee, at least. But the smile seemed to do the trick, because Bokuto blinked a few times before his expression brightened.

“That’s—that’s awesome. Are you one of those off-the-grid kind of people?” He dug around in his pockets before withdrawing a ballpoint pen with an exclamation of victory. Before Akaashi could pull away, Bokuto grabbed one of his hands and started writing on his palm. Numbers, he realized. And what looked like an address “Anyway, this is my number. Just like, borrow a phone from a friend. And that’s the place. Does eight work for you?”

Akaashi very nearly opened his mouth to say _I don’t have friends_ before realizing that would only garner a strange reaction. Perhaps Iwaizumi and Oikawa counted as friends, anyway. They were certainly the closest thing he had.

“Eight is fine.”

It was with a sharp pang of loneliness and homesickness that Akaashi waved goodbye to Bokuto and continued on his way. The continual pain in his shoulders, centered around his shoulder blades, was now a steady burn. The pain was grounding, tonight.

Akaashi took the time to write down the numbers from Bokuto on a pad of paper before changing into his designated sleeping clothes—sweatpants and no shirt, in deference to the wigs he no longer had—and sliding into bed.

Sleep found him quickly and for once, he did not dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bokuto had been right about the place being a hole in the wall. He walked past it before realizing, and only turned back when he heard a familiar voice.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto called out. He was beaming, brimming with energy. There was a colorful bruise high on his cheekbone, but he otherwise seemed well. Akaashi nodded in greeting. “Shall we?”

He opened the door for Akaashi, ushering him in with the lightest of touches on his back. Akaashi tried to move his wings out of the way before remembering they weren’t there anymore. He blinked rapidly and occupied himself with staring at the menu. Bokuto was chattering, some story about how he’d found the place and how it was his absolute favorite and not to worry about the cost, just to get whatever he wanted—

He had far too much energy for this early in the morning.

“You like it that sweet?” Bokuto asked in disbelief after Akaashi rattled off his drink order to the apathetic barista.

“You don’t?” Akaashi countered. He had ordered a plain black coffee.

“No way. I’m sweet enough without the sugar,” he added with a bright laugh that filled the room. Akaashi couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“Then I suppose I need the extra sweetness.”

“I didn’t mean,” Bokuto floundered, waving his hands in distracting gestures, “I didn’t mean that you’re not sweet! I’m sure you’re plenty sweet, Akaashi!”

“You don’t know me very well.”

“Yeah, but I can tell. I’ve got a sixth sense about people, if they’re good or not. And you, Akaashi, are definitely good.”

He could agree to good as a descriptor. He had been a true angel once, after all. But sweet? He was from it. Akaashi accepted his coffee order and took a grateful sip, letting the warmth seep into him.

“Oh, look, my table’s open! C’mon.” Bokuto pulled him along by the elbow towards a table in the corner near the windows. They sat and silence fell as they both drank.

Having nothing else to say and remembering what Oikawa said about humans not enjoying prolonged silences, Akaashi said, “I don’t see your name on it.”

“What?”

Oh, great. He had misspoken. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last. Well, there was nothing for it but to keep going with it and hope Bokuto wasn’t terribly offended.

“The table.” Akaashi tapped a finger against the smooth tabletop, dropping his eyes to admire the wood grain instead of Bokuto’s bright eyes. Bokuto snorted out a laugh and Akaashi’s gaze immediately went back to him. He was still smiling. That was…good.

“Well, no, not exactly. But whenever I come here, this is the table I try to get, so it’s mine in that sense.” He propped his chin in his hands. “You’re real funny, Akaashi.”

Akaashi ducked his head, taking another drink of his coffee. This had been a bad idea. He still didn’t know how to make small-talk.

“So tell me about yourself!”

“I—there’s nothing—”

“Like where you learned to fight like that!” Bokuto reached for his black coffee and took a long drink but his interested gaze never left Akaashi for a moment. “You were _amazing._ ”

“I don’t know about amazing.” Akaashi fiddled with the edges of his worn sleeves. Most of his clothes were cast-offs from Iwaizumi or Oikawa, but he liked this one. Soft and grey, with the words ‘kinda care, kinda don’t’ in black. He thought of the years he spent training with his siblings, the years he spent fighting the forces of evil. “I’ve had a lot of practice, that’s all.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I work at the grocery.” This would be easier than Akaashi thought if he kept asking him questions. “What about you?”

“I’m a librarian,” Bokuto replied eagerly. It was hard to imagine this energetic man surrounded by books and a quiet atmosphere, but it made more sense when he added on, “I work with kids!”

“I see. They must like your enthusiasm.”

Bokuto squinted at him. “Is that a compliment?”

“What else would it be?

Bokuto shook his head, grinning wider. “Nothing.”

The conversation went on for some time in the same fashion; Bokuto asked a question, Akaashi tried to think of an appropriate answer for him. It got easier the more he talked. But soon enough, Bokuto looked at his watch and made a disappointed noise.

“I gotta head into work soon.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Akaashi said politely.

“Ugh, this is so—frustrating!” Bokuto scrubbed at his hair, making it stand up even more. “Normally I’d say I’d call, but you don’t have a phone so how am I supposed to reach you?”

Akaashi thought it over, staring at the clearly distraught man in front of him. He…liked him. He liked his energy, how he didn’t make Akaashi feel strange for not knowing things or speaking oddly.

“I can give you my address,” he offered.

Bokuto’s head shot up, eyes wide, and Akaashi feared for a moment that he may have misspoken again. Perhaps one was not meant to give one’s address so easily.

_But it wasn’t easy._

Then Bokuto’s face broke out in a grin. “Really? You’d do that?”

“I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

“Me too! That’s—this is great! When can I come over? Can I come over tonight?”

Akaashi couldn’t think of a reason why not.

“If you like.” He held out his hand. “Do you have a pen?”

Bokuto went digging in his pockets for the pen, pressing it into his hand eagerly and holding out his forearm for Akaashi to write on. Akaashi had been planning on using a napkin, but if that was what he wanted, he wasn’t about to argue it. Pressing down carefully, Akaashi wrote out his address, distracted by the warmth of the skin he was writing on.

When he handed back the pen, instead of leaving, Bokuto kept talking.

“Am I coming on too strong? People say I come on too strong. I don’t mean to, I just get really excited about new friends and stuff and—is there something on my face?” he stopped his rambling to wipe at his lips. Akaashi realized he had been staring and looked away towards the traffic.

“You are not,” he paused, the phrase seeming awkward to him, “coming on too strong.”

Bokuto sighed in obvious relief. “ _Good._ I don’t wanna scare you off or anything.”

Bokuto was possibly the least frightening thing that Akaashi had encountered thus far during his life on Earth, but he suspected that wasn’t the right thing to say just now.

“So I’ll see you tonight? How’s seven?”

“Seven is fine.”

“Great.” Bokuto glanced down at his watch and sighed. “I really have to go. See you tonight though!” He stood from his chair, touching Akaashi’s shoulder in passing.

Akaashi remained at the table to finish his drink, watching the people and cars go by. There was a strange fluttering in his chest when he thought of seeing Bokuto again, so soon. He was interesting, in a way he had found no other human interesting.

Maybe he was starting to adjust, at long last.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to come yell about volleyball boys with me on [tumblr](http://hostilovi.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

“Konoha’s still sick, I need you to take closing,” Iwaizumi said as he walked by. Akaashi threw up an arm to block his way.

“I can’t,” Akaashi said.

“Excuse me?”

“I have an appointment.”

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows. “What, you sick or something? Sweet teeth finally give you some repercussions in the form of a root canal?”

“No,” Akaashi said, getting more frustrated that Iwaizumi couldn’t just accept that he wasn’t available for closing and move on. That’s what he did with all the other employees, what made him so special?

He knew what made him so special. But still, the point stood.

“I have an appointment with a person I met.” He tried to think of the words Iwaizumi always used for the time he spent with Oikawa. “A date,” he added, thinking it might be the right one.

Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped.

“A—a date? Akaashi, no offense, you don’t even have any _friends_ , how do you—”

He cut himself off as Akaashi glared.

“You know what? No. Good for you. I fully support you and this dating thing. Go forth and date.” He smiled, just a small flash of one, but it was genuine. “I’ll find someone else to close.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, pointedly turning his back to continue restocking the shelves. He ignored the soft chuckle from Iwaizumi as he left to go find some other poor soul to inflict closing on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi found himself nervous in the time before Bokuto’s arrival that night. What if he misspoke again, in a way that Bokuto wouldn’t find amusing? What if he was too obviously _not human_ and scared him off?

He didn’t want that. He wanted…he wasn’t sure what he wanted. But he had enjoyed Bokuto’s company, that much he knew.

He stared at his clothes bins, wondering what was appropriate for the occasion. Oikawa was always nagging him to buy “nicer” clothes with his paycheck—whatever that meant. Akaashi was content to continue wearing their hand-me-downs, even if they didn’t always fit correctly.

Finally, he settled on a long-sleeved green shirt and a pair of soft jeans. Surely Bokuto cared little for appearances in the first place, if he found Akaashi interesting. He was under no illusions of what he looked like; a touch too pale, bruise-like shadows perpetually surrounding his eyes, his countenance generally unsmiling.

The buzzer rang. Akaashi went to answer the door, anticipation tight in his gut.

“Bokuto,” he said in greeting, a flood of relief coming over him at seeing the other man. Bokuto smiled, wide and bright, giving him a tiny wave.

“That’s me!”

“Please come in.” Akaashi stood aside for him to enter.

“Wow, so you’re a minimalist, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around the tiny apartment. It was all one open space, with Akaashi’s mattress in one corner and all his clothes folded neatly in a few storage bins in another. Akaashi realized he didn’t have a couch. Or a table to sit at. In fact, the space didn’t look like much of a home at all.

“I just moved in,” he decided upon saying, “so it’s a bit…lacking.”

“That’s fine!” Bokuto kicked off his shoes and tossed his bag aside. His energy was different from before. More nervous. Akaashi wondered why.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure, yeah, that’d be good.” Akaashi could see Bokuto fidgeting in place in his peripherals while he got him a glass of water. He handed the glass over, watching him drink.

“So, uh. What do you do for fun?”

Akaashi didn’t have an answer. He tried to think of a lie, but lying didn’t come naturally to him. Thankfully, Bokuto kept talking.

“Like, I figure you must work out, right?”

“Yes,” Akaashi latched onto the suggestion gratefully. “I’m afraid that’s all.”

“Single-minded then. I like it.”

“What about you? What do you do for fun?” Akaashi asked. He realized they were still standing, mostly in the entryway, and ushered Bokuto over to the only place there was to sit—his bed. He sat down, seeming even more nervous as Akaashi sat next to him. The bed was made and mostly clean. Akaashi wasn’t certain about the source of his nerves.

Bokuto started rambling about his many hobbies, the first and foremost of which seemed to be a sport he called volleyball.

“Oikawa plays that,” Akaashi blurted out, stopping Bokuto mid-setence.

“Oikawa?”

“A…friend of mine. He also plays volleyball.”

“Oikawa, huh.” Bokuto frowned at him, then his eyes got wide. “You don’t by any chance mean Oikawa Tooru, do you?”

“That is his name, yes.”

“Dude!” Bokuto reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him lightly. “You’re friends with _the_ Oikawa Tooru?”

“Is he well-known?” Akaashi asked, thoroughly confused by Bokuto’s reaction.

“Well-known? He was only one of _the_ best setters in high school! My team played against him and man, was that rough. You gotta introduce me sometime, Akaashi.”

“I’m sure I could arrange that,” Akaashi said slowly.

“Oh, and my roommates play volleyball too! We’re on the same league now, it’s pretty great. Actually,” he dug his phone out of his pocket and held it up where they both could see, “I’ve got some videos of us, here!”

Akaashi couldn’t really follow what was happening, other than the ball going back and forth over the net and a lot of jumping. It was easy to pick out Bokuto, and he pointed out his two roommates, Kuroo and Kenma.

“I’m the ace,” he said proudly. “A wing spiker.”

The words meant nothing to Akaashi but he nodded anyway, which encouraged Bokuto to bring up another video. The more Bokuto rambled passionately about the sport, the more intrigued he became. The rules seemed simple enough, but it also seemed to require a certain amount of physical talent and strategizing.

Halfway through their third video, they were interrupted by Bokuto’s stomach growling. He flushed red, pressing a hand to his belly.

“Are you hungry?” Akaashi asked.

“I sort of maybe got too excited and forgot to eat before coming over,” he laughed awkwardly, “but I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can order something.” Akaashi still hadn’t gotten the hang of cooking other than making rice, so he lived off various takeout, premade meals from the grocery, and handouts from Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Akaashi stood and retrieved his pile of menus from a kitchen drawer and presented Bokuto with them.

Bokuto tried to refuse but Akaashi forcibly shoved the menus into his hands. He seemed a bit overwhelmed, staring down at the admittedly hefty pile of menus. “You’re really living the bachelor lifestyle, aren’t you?” he said, half to himself.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not bad! I just expected, you know…I don’t know. You seemed like the homemade type of person.” He set the menus aside and stood. “But c’mon, I’ve got a better idea. There’s a ramen place not too far from here.”

Akaashi thought he knew the one. If that’s what Bokuto wanted, he was willing. They put on their shoes and headed down the two flights of stairs that led to  Akaashi’s apartment. Bokuto kept the conversation going easily, stopping in the middle of his rambling to ask the occasional question of him, until they got to the ramen shop.

The meal passed without incident and soon enough it was time to leave.

“Jeez, aren’t you cold, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, shivering and blowing into his hands as they stood outside the ramen shop.

“No.”

“Liar!”

Akaashi frowned. “I’m not a liar.”

“Then you must not be human,” he groaned, not noticing when Akaashi tensed up. “Because it is _freezing_ out here!”

It was true that his shirt and vest didn’t look particularly warm, but Akaashi was more resistant to the cold than a normal human, he had found.

“Is your home far from here? You could borrow a jacket.”

“No, that’s okay, it’s not far. Besides I don’t think your jackets would fit these guns.” Bokuto smiled and lifted his arms, flexing.

“Goodnight, then.”

“What you’re not even a little impressed? Everyone loves a guy with muscles!”

“If you have them, why not use them?” Akaashi’s eyes went to the bruise on his face. Bokuto touched it, self-conscious, and his eyes slid away from his.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he said, tone joking. When Akaashi didn’t react, he sighed. “I’m serious, you know? I just can’t take a swing at another person. It would be wrong.”

“By that logic, I shouldn’t have rescued you.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful!” He grabbed Akaashi’s hand and squeezed it tight before dropping it. He _was_ freezing. “Because I am grateful. But I just—I just can’t. The idea that I hurt a person, even a bad one, is too much.”

Bokuto was truly a gentle soul. Perhaps that was what drew Akaashi to him. He reminded him of one of the superiors he had, back home.

Home no longer.

“You should go before you get too cold,” Akaashi observed, choosing to ignore what he said. Bokuto nodded and before Akaashi could do anything, he was hugging him. It was a tight embrace, but brief, the pressure there and gone again before Akaashi could protest it.

“I had a nice time! Goodnight, Akaashi!”

Akaashi stood and watched his retreating back until he turned a corner.

Only once he was gone did he realize they didn’t have a way to contact each other. Akaashi had a phone number, but no phone. Bokuto had an address but no knowing if Akaashi even wanted to see him again.

 _Well, shit,_ he thought to himself.

He trudged back home, eyes on the far-off sky and heart full of longing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How’d your date go?” Konoha asked, wiping his nose surreptitiously on his sleeve. Akaashi pulled a face at him, shoving a packet of tissues his way. He muttered an embarrassed ‘thanks’ but waited expectantly for an answer.

“How did you know I had one?” Akaashi countered.

“Iwaizumi sort of maybe spread the word.” Konoha shrugged and paused to blow his nose. “So? What’s she like?”

“He,” Akaashi corrected.

“He, then.”

“He is,” he struggled to find the appropriate descriptor for Bokuto, “interesting. Very energetic.”

“So it’s like an opposites attract kind of thing? That’s cool. The energy part, not the interesting part,” he swiftly added on at Akaashi’s cool look. “I’m happy for you, man. Hope it works out.”

“Thank you.” They moved out of the way for some customers coming down the aisle. “Should you even be here?”

Konoha groaned. “I’m not contagious, I swear. It’s a sinus infection.”

Akaashi didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded unpleasant. He gently patted Konoha’s shoulder. “Get well soon,” he said before heading off to take his break. Iwaizumi was in the breakroom too, and Akaashi didn’t hesitate to snap at him.

“I don’t appreciate you spreading details of my personal life around.”

“Relax, Akaashi. ‘sides, you didn’t say anything about it being a secret.” He was grinning. “How’d the date go, anyway?”

“Fine,” Akaashi said between his teeth, sitting down in one of the rickety chairs and staring mindlessly at the wall.

“You’re a wealth of information, as always, Akaashi.”

Akaashi closed his eyes. “It was pleasant,” he admitted finally.

“You get a second date out of them?”

“Him. We did not speak of a second meeting.”

Iwaizumi hummed, disappointed. “You get his number?”

“Yes, but that’s hardly useful.”

“It would be if your dumb ass would buy a phone already. Here.” Iwaizumi’s phone made a solid thump on the table. Akaashi opened his eyes, frowning at him suspiciously. “Tell him you had a nice time. The worst he’ll do is not answer.”

“What makes you think I have his number memorized?”

“What, you don’t?”

“Of course I do.” Numbers were easy to memorize. He had nearly all the product codes in the store memorized within the first few days of starting this job. Iwaizumi glanced at the clock and sighed.

“Just get that back to me before you leave, okay?”

He left after clapping a brusque hand to Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi rolled his shoulder to get rid of the ghost of his touch, casting a dubious glance at the phone before unlocking it and going to the messages screen.

 _I had a nice time,_ he tapped out, then deleted.

_I had a nice time with you._

Delete.

_If you are amenable, I’d like to see you again._

Delete.

_This is Akaashi. I had a good time last night._

Akaashi sent it before he could think better of it, narrowly resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room. Thankfully he didn’t have long to wait. The phone pinged loudly with an incoming text that Akaashi quickly opened

_Akaashi! Did you get a phone? Or did you borrow one? I had a good time too. Let’s do it again, yeah?_

Relief filled him.

 _Borrowed,_ he replied. _I would like that._

With that his break was over. Akaashi slid the phone into his pocket and returned to work, twitching every time he felt the phone vibrate against his leg. But he refrained from checking it, knowing others who had gotten in trouble for doing the same, until it was time for him to leave. There was a barrage of messages waiting for him.

_We could go to the zoo? Have you been before? I figure maybe not since you just moved here._

_Or there’s a farmer’s market happening this weekend._

_Or we could always hang at my place and watch movies!_

_Sorry if I’m bugging you at work, I’m just so happy to hear from you!_

_Whatever you would like,_ Akaashi replied quickly as he stashed his work apron in his locker. _I have to return the phone now._

Bokuto texted back before Akaashi had to hand off the phone.

 _I haven’t been to the zoo in ages, let’s go!_ This was accompanied by several things Akaashi knew were emojis, but he could not interpret. _Meet at our coffee place? Sat @ 10?_

_Sounds good._

“Lover boy, am I ever getting my phone back?” Iwaizumi drawled in his ear, making him jump. Akaashi scowled and shoved the phone into his waiting hand.

“Thanks,” he remembered to say before heading out the door.

His heart was beating a touch too fast. He would get to see Bokuto again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As chance would have it, Akaashi saw Bokuto before that Saturday.

He was out for a run, which was what he did with his time when he couldn’t stand being cooped up in his apartment any longer, when he saw a familiar head of hair being dragged in an alley by some unsavory looking character.

Akaashi frowned and sped up, coming to an unsteady halt at the alley entrance.

He couldn’t hear what the other man was saying, but Bokuto looked scared. Akaashi launched himself forward without a second thought.

The man went down easy. Bokuto’s face was shocked but the expression quickly dissolved into relief.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Bokuto laughed weakly, accepting Akaashi’s hand and letting himself be hauled back onto his feet. He was surprisingly heavy. Or perhaps not so surprising, given his muscle mass. That or it was weakness of his new body still affecting him.

“Yes, I’m beginning to think you actually like getting cornered in dark alleyways.”

“I don’t!”

“It was a joke.” Akaashi looked him over for any injuries but other than a few bruises and his clothes in a bit of disarray he seemed well enough. “Be more careful. Goodnight, then.”

“W-Wait!” Bokuto grabbed his arm when he made to turn away. He licked his lips when Akaashi looked at him expectantly, golden eyes darting away. “Walk me home?”

“If you like.” He had little else to do, and having Bokuto’s company might do him some good.

They didn’t talk for a while, Bokuto leading the way with Akaashi half a step behind him and watching their surroundings in case anyone else tried to approach them.

“I used to be a punk,” Bokuto blurted out.

“A punk,” Akaashi repeated. He was vaguely familiar with the term, and from what he knew of it, Bokuto didn’t fit the word at all, in his sweater vest and button-down shirt, all smiles and sweetness.

“I used to cause all kinds of trouble. Quit the scene and got my act together about six years ago, never looked back. That’s why the others don’t like me too much.”

“So this kind of thing happens a lot,” Akaashi said, filling in the blanks. “Because they know your face.”

Bokuto sighed and nodded.

“You could fight back.”

“But I can’t. I can’t go back to the way I was.” He bit his lip, turning to face Akaashi in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the people casting them dirty looks as they had to move around them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, ever again.”

“Not even if they hurt you first.”

“Not even.”

He started walking again, looking morose. Akaashi followed.

“You’re too kindhearted,” Akaashi informed him. “Especially for a world like this.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

It wasn’t a compliment, but Akaashi let it slide.

“Why tell me this?”

“I dunno, felt like I had to explain myself. And you seem like a person who can keep another person’s secrets, y’know?”

Akaashi felt a wave of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why. “I can. I will.”

Bokuto flashed him a warm smile that made him immediately feel better. “Thanks, Akaashi. Well, this is me.”

They stopped in front of an apartment building not all that dissimilar from Akaashi’s own.

“But you, you were so cool! Especially with how you swooped in like that! Why, it’s like you’re my guardian angel or something!” Bokuto said with delight.

Akaashi flinched at the word. _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._ “Don’t,” he grated out. Bokuto looked surprised. Understandably so. Akaashi couldn’t, wouldn’t take it back. “Don’t call me that.”

“Jeez, okay,” he mumbled, visibly disheartened. Akaashi tried for a smile but it felt brittle and false. Giving up on the smile, he tried the next best thing. Bokuto looked at him again when Akaashi touched his arm—gentle, light.

“I’m glad I was there to save you,” he said, hoping it was the right thing to say.

“Me too.”

Akaashi relaxed. He tried the smile again and it didn’t feel so fake. “Goodnight, Bokuto. Until Saturday.”

Bokuto brightened at the mention of their arranged meeting. “Goodnight!”

Akaashi waited until Bokuto was inside the building before leaving.

Then Akaashi ran. He ran and ran. He ran until his lungs ached and his legs burned with the strain.

But he never quite managed to get Bokuto’s smile out of his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The days dragged by, but finally Saturday came. Akaashi ordered his usual coffee while he waited for Bokuto to arrive, watching the street intently for him. He had opted to wait outside, too antsy to sit at a table—even though Bokuto’s table was open.

He couldn’t place why he was so nervous. Bokuto made him feel comfortable, so it was counter-intuitive. The caffeine and sugar rush didn’t seem to be helping, either.

“Akaashi!” he heard the shout from down the street and turned, spotting Bokuto waving to him.

He tossed back the last of his coffee, threw away the cup, and headed his way. Bokuto was smiling, almost breathless with excitement. He embraced him briefly when Akaashi made it over to him, an embrace Akaashi didn’t even have time to think about returning before he was pulling away.

“Hey, Akaashi! Ready to go?”

“I’m ready,” he confirmed.

“This-a-way then!” Bokuto turned and set a quick pace down the street, weaving around the slower moving people with practiced movements. Akaashi was hard-pressed to keep up, though he took comfort in the fact that Bokuto kept glancing back to make sure he was still there.

They stood in the short line for tickets, Bokuto practically bouncing in place and Akaashi regretting ordering that coffee as nervous, twitchy energy filled him to the brim. Bokuto insisted on paying for his ticket.

“You saved me twice now, which means it’s my treat, Akaashi,” he said as Akaashi protested, gently pushing him aside.

“I’m perfectly capable of paying my own way,” he responded, unable to help his cross tone. Bokuto just shook his head.

“You can buy us lunch if you want, but I’ve got this. Now c’mon!”

He pulled Akaashi through the gate by his wrist before Akaashi could even grab a map. Bokuto seemed to know exactly where he was going though.

“I’m betting you haven’t been here yet, right?” When Akaashi confirmed this, Bokuto continued, “So I want to show you my favorite exhibit first! Then we can hit up all the others.”

Despite saying this, they made several stops to observe the playing otters and a pair of lazy red pandas sleeping high up in the trees.

Finally, they stopped in front of a set of doors that led inside a building that stretched way up into the sky.

“Welcome to the aviary,” Bokuto said, holding the door open and urging him in with a hand to his back.

Akaashi felt frozen at hearing the word. _Aviary._ That was the name of the place he had slept with all his angel siblings, once upon a time. But numb as he was, he followed obediently after Bokuto through another set of doors, and they were inside.

He could smell dung and water, of course, but he could also smell feathers. Warm and soft. Akaashi closed his eyes, listening to the birds call back and forth. The cacophony was not so dissimilar from the way his siblings had yelled to each other across the spacious rooms that made their Aviary.

“Akaashi?”

He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, glancing towards Bokuto’s curious expression.

“If you close your eyes, you’ll miss all the birds.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

They made a winding path through the building, Bokuto pointing every different type of bird, spotting them hiding in the foliage with an expert eye. He was most excited when they got to the end of the exhibit, where there were some extra enclosures just outside the building.

“C’mon, these are my favorite!” He grabbed Akaashi by the wrist again and dragged him along.

“I just love owls, don’t you?”

Akaashi stepped as close to the cage as the fencing would permit, staring hard at the quiet creature within. Bokuto was still talking, saying about how the zoo took in injured owls for rehabilitation and kept the ones that couldn’t be released, but Akaashi could barely hear him.

There was a familiar, predatory grace to these birds that the others had lacked. The largest one, the one Akaashi had stepped close to, stared right back at him, unafraid.

“I kinda look like that one with my hair, don’tcha think?” Bokuto asked, puffing out his chest and eyeing Akaashi hopefully. Akaashi could only smile.

“You do,” he admitted. Bokuto grinned back at him.

“Oh, hey, come closer.” Bokuto pulled out his phone. Akaashi took a single step closer and Bokuto rolled his eyes, throwing his arm casually around Akaashi’s shoulders and pulling him much, much closer. He held out his phone to catch them both in the frame. “Smile, Akaashi!”

Bokuto snapped a few photos, complaining that Akaashi hadn’t smiled, but he seemed pleased to have them anyway.

They made their way through the rest of the zoo slowly, Bokuto talking about this and that, Akaashi adding a few words where he could. It was…nice. Akaashi paid for their lunch, despite Bokuto’s protests, but the zoo was only so big and they had reached the end.

Akaashi wasn’t ready to part ways with Bokuto. Not yet.

But even as he steeled himself to do just that, Bokuto said, “Want to head over to my place?”

Akaashi blinked a few times.

“Or I mean, like, if you’re sick of me or something, that’s fine too,” he trailed off with an awkward laugh.

“I’m not sick of you.” Akaashi said it perhaps a bit too firmly. But Bokuto smiled.

Bokuto was in high spirits as he led the way up the stairs to his shared apartment, chattering about what types of movies he liked and didn’t like—action and horror, respectively.

“Especially ones with zombies,” he pulled a strange face. “It’s too creepy for me. What about you?”

“I can’t say they really bother me.”

The only movies Akaashi had seen were alien documentaries that he watched with Oikawa when the two of them couldn’t sleep, back when he still lived with him. But the idea of zombies didn’t creep him out; he had fought worse back when he was an angel. The thought was sobering.

He followed after Bokuto into the apartment and was nearly overwhelmed by the amount of color, everywhere. There were posters and photos tacked up all over the walls, barely an inch of clear space to be seen. Akaashi tried not to stare as he took off his shoes in the entryway.

“Kinda the opposite of your place,” Bokuto said with a self-conscious laugh. “You like?”

“It’s…colorful.”

“That’s certainly one way to describe it,” an unfamiliar voice said.

The speaker was tall and dark of hair, staring intently at Akaashi. Akaashi looked straight back at him.

“Oh hi, Kuroo! I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Kuroo pulled his eyes away from Akaashi to smile at Bokuto. “Kenma wasn’t feeling up to it so we decided to stay in.”

“Aw, well that’s too bad. Should I go cheer him up or is he having alone time right now?”

“Alone time. But I bet he’d appreciate the thought. So,” he said, drawing out the single syllable, and returning his gaze to Akaashi, “are you going to introduce your friend?”

“This is Akaashi! You know, the one I told you all about.”

“I do recall you mentioning him once or twice. Or was it twenty times?”

Bokuto flushed red at his friend’s comment. Kuroo’s grin widened.

“I joke. Don’t worry. Nice to finally meet the mysterious savior, Akaashi.”

“Nice to meet you too, Kuroo,” Akaashi returned politely, not certain what to make of the man.

“Don’t let me interrupt…whatever it is you two kids are doing,” he said, with a heavy emphasis on the _whatever._ If possible, Bokuto turned even redder.

“We’re watching a movie,” Bokuto declared. “You and Kenma can join if you want. That’s okay, right?” he added in an aside to Akaashi. Akaashi nodded. If they were friends of Bokuto’s he wanted to be able to get along with them.

Bokuto introduced him to their combined movie collection, which Akaashi was sure he would find impressive if he ever watched movies. It took up the better part of three hefty storage bins.

“Pick a genre, any genre.”

“No preference.”

“Oh, come _on_ , everybody has a preference!”

“Not horror,” Akaashi decided. He had enough nightmares of his own. Bokuto made a face.

“Agreed. Anything but horror.”

They eventually settled on Pacific Rim, after Kenma emerged from his room and vetoed the comedy genre.

Akaashi didn’t follow much of the movie, on account of him constantly looking over at Bokuto to catch all the different expressions crossing his face. At some points he and Kuroo could actually quote the actors’ lines, making Kenma pull faces from where he sat huddled with his handheld gaming system in the armchair.

“Quit ruining the movie for Akaashi, he said he hasn’t seen it.”

“We’re not ruining it! Are we, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked after Kenma tried to silence the argument of escalating volume between him and Kuroo about who would make a better Jaeger pilot of the two of them and why.

“I missed some of the dialogue,” he admitted, glancing at Kenma who bobbed his head in acknowledgment of his deed.

“Shit, rewind, rewind!”

“It’s not a VCR, Bo, just hit the back button.”

“I know that!”

They went back to watching the movie in relative silence after backtracking to the appropriate spot, but Bokuto remained a very animated movie watcher. He actually jumped up from his seat at one point, punching the air and a loud exclamation of victory for what was happening on screen. Kenma ignored him pointedly and Kuroo kicked at the backs of his knees.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen this before, you big lunk, sit back down.”

He sat, practically bouncing in place with energy, eyes glued to the screen. He hadn’t been looking when he sat, so he was considerably closer to Akaashi than before. Their shoulders jostled for space and their legs were pressed together. Akaashi was aware of every breath that Bokuto took.

Bokuto didn’t even seem to notice.

Kuroo winked at him with a lazy grin.

Akaashi whipped his head back towards the screen. He stayed frozen still for the rest of the movie, enjoying the closeness while it lasted.

“I had a great time,” Bokuto said as he escorted him to the door. Akaashi had already said his goodbyes to Kuroo and Kenma—he wasn’t sure what to think of either of them still, but he didn’t think the impression he had made was unsatisfactory. “How about you, enjoy yourself?”

“Quite. Thank you.” Akaashi was glad of the excuse of tying his shoes to look away from Bokuto’s beaming face. “I’d like to see you again,” he added, because he didn’t want to have to rely on Iwaizumi again. “Soon.”

“That’s be great! I mean, you’re welcome to swing by my place anytime, but I don’t know your schedule…there’s this really neat park we should go to. Wednesday maybe? If you can swing that?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Borrow your friend’s phone again and let me know if you can’t make it.”

“I will.”

“Have a good night,” Bokuto said, right before pulling him into a tight hug. Akaashi lifted his arms around him loosely, going so far as to pat his back before pulling away from the embrace. The whole time he had been trying to lift his wings up and out of the way and his back suddenly hurt like it hadn’t hurt all day.

“Hey, you okay, Akaashi? You look pale.” Bokuto lifted a hand as if to touch him again and Akaashi stepped back, reaching desperately for the door handle. He needed to go.

“I’m fine. Have a good night, Bokuto.”

Akaashi fled into the cool air of the night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

 "So Iwa-chan tells me you’re dating someone now.”

“Maybe Iwa-chan should learn to mind his own business.” The nickname felt strange on his tongue but it was worth it to see him scowl.

“Don’t talk that way about Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said with a mock gasp. “Don’t worry, I’ll defend your honor from this scoundrel.”

“That’d be easier if he had any honor.”

Iwaizumi kicked him under the table while Oikawa snickered. Akaashi ducked his head, focusing on his dinner instead of the other two men at the table. Maybe they’d send him home with leftovers.

It was getting easier, bit by bit. He shifted his shoulders as pain bloomed up his spine, mindful of Iwaizumi’s eyes on him.

Bit by bit. He’d take what he could get.

He went out that night and bought a phone.

He spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out the workings of it before finally falling asleep, with the thought of how happy Bokuto would be when he told him the next morning making him smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I got a phone._

_AKAASHI????_

This statement was followed by a long string of emojis that Akaashi would need to get Oikawa to interpret for him if he had any hope of understanding what they meant.

_Yes. What time are we meeting?_

_Shit I guess we forgot to decide that. It’s my off day, so whenever you’re ready._

Akaashi glanced at the clock on his microwave. But Bokuto was already texting him again.

_ACTUALLY Kuroo and Kenma want to tag along if that’s okay with you? So we have to wait until they’re back home. Does 4 work for you?_

Akaashi agreed even though he was loathe to sit around his apartment waiting that long.

He threw on some clothes and went for a run, not realizing where he was heading until he was already there.

The hospital.

He immediately turned around and broke into a sprint, heading the opposite direction.

It was the same hospital he had been dragged into after his Fall, where Oikawa had discovered him. He and Iwaizumi had the exact same injuries, in the exact same places, and had made a miraculously quick recovery. That was how he had known, though he had dragged Iwaizumi in to confirm it.

They released him into Iwaizumi’s care after he lied about Akaashi being his brother.

Akaashi was forced to slow his pace so he didn’t run into anybody. But the frustration was still there, the pent-up emotions. By the time he made it home, he was itching for a fight.

He took a long, too-hot shower in hopes of scalding away the pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They met up at Bokuto’s place and headed out from there.

“—and then he has the audacity to pull a low-level chemistry pun! One we’ve all been sick of since undergrad, might I add, and just, _ugh_ , Bo, it was awful,” Kuroo complained as they all walked together. Akaashi had no idea what he was talking about, Kenma didn’t seem to care, and Bokuto was nodding along sympathetically.

“You’re the one who wanted to get a masters in chemistry, you big nerd.”

“And I still want to. I just need better classmates.”

“You might be working with some of them in the future, you know,” Kenma pointed out. Kuroo groaned theatrically, grabbing him by the shoulder despite the dirty look Kenma shot him.

“Say it ain’t so!”

Then his eyes fell on Akaashi, considering.

“Say, what did you go to school for, Akaashi?” They had made it to the park at last and Akaashi had to admit it was a nice place. Lots of trees, lots of open green space. For a moment what Kuroo was asking didn’t register.

“I work at the grocery,” he said.

“I know that, Bokuto has said. But school. Your degree.”

“Quit grilling him,” Bokuto groused, “we’re here to have a nice time, not interview him.”

Kuroo spun with a grin, squishing Bokuto’s cheeks between his hands. “I’m just trying to get idea of what he’s like. Anybody who has an interest in my bitty Bokuto has to come through me first.”

Bokuto growled, reaching up and roughly messing up Kuroo’s already messy hair, making the other man yelp. “I am not bitty!”

“Au contraire, mon petit,” Kuroo managed to say, and then Bokuto was chasing him down the path, both of them whooping and hollering at each other. Akaashi watched them go wordlessly, falling into step beside Kenma, who was engrossed with something on his phone.

Their laughter floated back to him. Something felt tight in his chest as he watched Kuroo and Bokuto joke back and forth so easily, how they touched each other so familiarly.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Kenma said abruptly, not looking up from his phone.

“Excuse me?”

“With those two. They’ve always been that way.” He did look up this time, wriggling his fingers in demonstration. “All touchy-feely. It’s their thing.”

“I wasn’t worried about anything,” Akaashi said stiffly, to which Kenma rolled his eyes.

“Used to bother me too,” he said as though Akaashi hadn’t spoken. “Before I remembered something.”

Akaashi waited but Kenma didn’t continue.

“Remembered what?” he prompted.

A flush entered Kenma’s cheeks and he looked forward towards Kuroo and Bokuto. Towards Kuroo, mostly. “That he’s devoted to me. I know it’s not the same with you and Bokuto, but you’re all he talks about, these days. So that’s something.”

Disjointed speech delivered, Kenma returned his gaze back to the game he was playing.

“Thanks,” Akaashi said, because he had to say something. Kenma just shrugged.

It was easy to be around him. He didn’t seem to expect anything from Akaashi. It wasn’t the same ease he felt with Bokuto, but it was relaxing to be able to lower his guard.

_He’s devoted to me._

Akaashi watched the pair joking, noting how Kuroo looked back every so often with a fond smile. Bokuto didn’t seem to notice his staring, too busy laughing and talking, his arm slung around Kuroo’s neck.

Is that what Akaashi wanted from Bokuto? He wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A week later found him over at Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s for dinner again. Iwaizumi was puttering around the kitchen, leaving Oikawa and Akaashi in the living room.

“So you finally got a phone,” Oikawa observed as he pulled the buzzing device from his pocket and switched it to silent. “This special friend of yours is a good influence.”

“It’s just a phone,” Akaashi said defensively. It was a text from Bokuto. He ignored it in favor of meeting Oikawa’s gaze evenly. “And what do you know of him?”

“I know that ever since you started hanging out with him, you’ve been acting more normal. More human.”

Akaashi went tense.

“That’s a good thing, in case you’ve forgotten. You _are_ human now.”

But that wasn’t quite true. They both knew it. He was almost human, maybe, but there was something about him that was Other. Iwaizumi was the same, even if he managed to hide it better than Akaashi.

Thankfully, Iwaizumi called them into the kitchen before Oikawa could say anything else, even if he continued to shoot Akaashi meaningful glances throughout the meal.

“He has a phone,” Oikawa announced right before he left, sticking out his tongue at Akaashi behind Iwaizumi’s back. Iwaizumi blinked at him in surprise before grinning.

“Lemme see.”

Akaashi grudgingly got the device out and handed it over.

“Nice. Shoot me a text so I have your number.” Iwaizumi handed it back after flipping it over in his hands a few times.

“Me too!” Oikawa proclaimed.

Akaashi nodded, promised that he would, and left.

_You’re human now._

Akaashi huddled down beneath the wings he didn’t have on his walk home, misery clouding his vision.

Only when he had gotten into bed did he remember that Bokuto had texted him. Squinting against the too-bright light of the screen, Akaashi opened it.

_Can I hang at your place tomorrow? Kuroo’s studying for exams and he’s unBEARABLE._

_Of course,_ Akaashi texted back. It had been several days since they had been in each other’s company, and he would be grateful to see him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bokuto appeared at his doorstep not long after Akaashi got off of work.

“Too early?” he asked, bouncing on his toes when Akaashi let him inside. “I probably should have texted what time.”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi assured him. “I was just going to change from my work clothes.”

Not that there was much differentiation between his work clothes and the clothes he wore otherwise, but he always appreciated putting on something fresh. Bokuto nodded.

“Go ahead!”

Feeling self-conscious, Akaashi grabbed the first shirt and pants from his clothes bins and went to go change in the privacy of his bathroom. While he was there, he gave a half-hearted attempt to fix his hair and splashed some water on his face.

When he returned, Bokuto had made himself at home, laying on his bed, scrolling through something on his phone. Akaashi sat next to him.

“So, did you have plans for tonight?” Bokuto asked, flopped comfortably on his section of the bed. “Before I asked to come over? You seem antsy.”

“No,” Akaashi said. Then amended, “Yes.”

“Yes?” Bokuto wilted a little. “Like, dude, I can totally get out of your hair—”

“No,” Akaashi said, a little too sharp, surprising them both. “I just mean—it was nothing important. I was going to go shopping for some furniture.”

“Furniture! Finally decided to liven up the place, huh?” Bokuto smiled at him and Akaashi smiled helplessly back. “Well, let’s go! I can help you pick out stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Akaashi asked uncertainly as Bokuto launched himself up off the bed and headed for the door.

“Yeah! It’ll be fun.” Bokuto gave him a thumbs-up in between putting his shoes on. He had brought a jacket with him this time, Akaashi was glad to see, as the nights had been steadily getting colder as they headed into further and further into winter.

They walked through the evening together. Even Akaashi was thankful for a jacket tonight, even if it felt cumbersome to wear.

“Do you know which one you wanted to hit up?”

“No,” Akaashi admitted.

“I’ll take you to the one that I got most of my stuff from then,” Bokuto said with a crooked, charming smile.

It was far enough away that they had to catch a bus there. There weren’t that many people aboard, but Bokuto still squeezed in beside him. Every so often Akaashi could hear him humming snippets of songs he didn’t recognize.

Shopping was usually a dull experience, in Akaashi’s memory, but with Bokuto along, it was enjoyable. They tried out about half a dozen couches before settling on a dark blue hulking thing that was priced reasonably low. Akaashi had borrowed money from Oikawa and Iwaizumi for this purpose anyway, so it didn’t quite matter how much he spent, but neither did he want to be in their debt for the rest of his mortal life.

The table took longer to find. Akaashi could feel himself getting more tired and grouchy by the minute, but Bokuto was just as chipper as he nearly always seemed to be, dashing from one display to the next. They left the store and ducked into a nearby antique shop to try their luck there instead.

Just when Akaashi was preparing to call it quits and try another day—the store would be closing soon, anyway—Bokuto called him over to one last setup.

“What do you think?”

“I think I don’t need a table after all.”

“Akaashi, c’mon, I’m being serious here. This one would fit just right.”

Akaashi looked at the table more seriously. The dark wood was heavily scratched but clearly well-cared for. And it _would_ fit in the space he had. He nodded grudgingly and Bokuto dashed off to find the owner and haggle.

Having completed his goal, Akaashi felt a sense of accomplishment as they headed back out into the night. It was completely dark now and even more cold. They sat in companionable silence on the bus ride back home. Akaashi was grateful for Bokuto’s bulky warmth next to him.

“Akaashi, look! Snow!”

He leaned over Akaashi, pressing his hands to the window and staring out at the outside world with rapt attention. He didn’t seem to notice or care at how close this brought them together, even though it was the only thing Akaashi could focus on, even when he looked outside too.

White flakes were drifting slowly down from the sky.

Bokuto was smiling as he sat back down in his seat.

Akaashi wished for him to come closer again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Any plans for Christmas?” Konoha asked him as they were restocking shelves together.

“No.”

Oikawa had told him in no uncertain terms that he would have to find something else to do rather than spend the holiday with him and Iwaizumi.

“It’s for couples only,” he said primly. “And as much as I like you, I want Iwaizumi to myself for once.”

“You can have him,” Akaashi had shot back.

When Iwaizumi had offered for him to come over, Akaashi had still declined. It was just one more day to him. He didn’t have much cause to be celebrating anything, except maybe the delivery of his furniture.

“Ah, that’s a shame. I’d hope things were going well with you and that guy you’ve been going on dates with,” Konoha said with a sigh, patting Akaashi’s shoulder.

“Things are going well.”

“But you’re not celebrating Christmas with him?”

“It’s only for couples, I thought.”

“Well, sort of. Maybe you should ask him to celebrate with you. You never know, it might lead your relationship along!”

With those words of wisdom imparted, Konoha left to go take care of a cleanup in the cereal aisle. Akaashi thought what he said over the whole day, and was still thinking about it when he went over to Bokuto’s for what had become their ritual movie night.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto groaned, throwing himself back against the couch. “What am I going to do? Asshole Kuroo is kicking me out of my own home for Christmas.”

“How come it’s only asshole Kuroo and not asshole Kenma?” Kuroo asked, looking up from his pile of notebooks, tucking his pencil behind his ear.

“Because Kenma doesn’t care if I stay or not.”

“I don’t,” Kenma piped up from the armchair, eyes riveted on the television screen.

“Kenma, you’re so romantic,” Kuroo said dryly. The other man casually flipped him off. “Anyway, Bo, you have tons of friends. Some of them have to be single. Go hang with them for one night.”

Bokuto groaned again in response.

“Akaashi,” he whined. “You see how he treats me? He’s the worst.”

“Hey, the so-called ‘worst’ made you dinner tonight. Shut up.”

Akaashi kept his eyes on the screen even though he had long lost track of what was going on, and spoke. “We could spend Christmas together, if you want.”

Bokuto was quiet for long enough to make him nervous. He dared a glance his way and found him gazing at Akaashi with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Do you mean that? I won’t be out on the streets after all?”

“Only if you want to,” Akaashi said, feeling strangely warm. “We’re both…single.”

“Yes!” Bokuto punched the air, ignoring Kenma’s complaint to quiet down and watch the damn movie. “This’ll be great! Hey, we should totally get each other gifts!”

Akaashi nodded and went back to watching the movie. But he couldn’t pay attention, too busy thinking about the upcoming holiday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I need your help._

It took close to an hour for him to get a reply.

_Oh?_

There was something so smug about that response that Akaashi nearly gritted his teeth.

_What does one give another person for Christmas?_

_Ah, that I can’t help with. It has to come from the heart. Is this about your mystery man you refuse to tell me anymore about?_

Akaashi hesitated. _Yes._

_Think of the things he likes and buy accordingly. That’s all I can tell!_

_Thanks,_ Akaashi begrudgingly texted, feeling as lost as he had been before he texted him.

_And remember, if you’re going to sex it up, use a condom._

_Die, Oikawa._

He ignored Oikawa’s indignant reply in favor of heading out of the house to catch the next bus to the mall. Akaashi tried to think of things that Bokuto liked. Movies, for one. But he couldn’t buy him what he already had.

Him, hopefully.

He wandered around the mall, moving from store to store in an overwhelmed daze. He would buy him a book, but he probably already had plenty of those, being a librarian. On a whim he stopped in at a kid’s store, his eyes caught by a certain stuffed animal display.

Oikawa had said it needed to be something from the heart.

“Those aren’t very popular,” the cashier said, eyeing the stuffed owl dubiously when he placed it on the counter to buy. Akaashi looked at them evenly and they paled. “But I’m sure they’ll love it,” they added on hurriedly. “Half the proceeds go to a local wild animal rescue and rehabilitation center.”

Akaashi nodded and paid for the owl, and left the mall as quickly as he could, ready to be back home. His shoulders were burning today, and he couldn’t escape the sensation that his non-existent wings were being crushed by all the clothes he was wearing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bokuto came over the next week, saying he needed to escape Kuroo’s studying once more. They ended up watching short videos that Bokuto called vines on their phones while sprawled together on the couch. Akaashi liked the ones with cats the most, but he liked the lazy, content feeling he got from being with Bokuto  most of all.

Things were going well until Bokuto asked him a question.

“Say, Akaashi,” Bokuto said. “What’s your given name?”

Akaashi froze up.

“I figured, you know, since we’re such good friends and all, we could call each other by that instead! Mine’s Koutarou.”

Akaashi remained silent, frozen. Of course Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking for. His angel name. The one thing he had left from his previous life.

“Is that…not okay?” Bokuto asked, sounding almost hesitant. Akaashi winced, curling his shoulders up protectively as though he still had wings to hide behind. He felt bad for hurting Bokuto. That was the last thing he wanted to do. But he couldn’t give up his angel name. He just couldn’t.

“I—I just prefer to be known as Akaashi,” he said quietly, hoping that poor explanation would suffice.

“Oh,” Bokuto said, just as quiet. “Okay. That’s cool. I just thought…but it’s fine.”

He stood abruptly.

“I should go, it’s getting late, huh? You probably want to get to bed.”

Akaashi wanted no such thing, but he stood and trailed after Bokuto to the door where he collected his shoes, feeling helpless all the while. There was nothing he could say that would fix this, he knew. Nothing except to return the favor of giving his given name, his angel name.

“Goodnight, Bokuto. Travel safely.”

“You know,” Bokuto said, turning back to him with a crooked kind of smile. “You can still call me Koutarou, if you like. I don’t mind.”

“Goodnight,” Akaashi tried again, “Koutarou.”

The name felt strangely intimate on his tongue. Bokuto flushed inexplicably red but his smile widened into something bright that tugged at Akaashi’s heart.

“Goodnight, Akaashi!” he said before dashing down the stairs.

Akaashi stayed in the doorway until he heard the outside door slam closed.

“Koutarou,” he said again, even though he was long gone and couldn’t hear. “Koutarou.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Several days passed with no contact from Bokuto which was very unusual, to say the least. It was concerning. But Akaashi figured he was busy, and went about his life as normal.

Or at least, he tried.

“Hey.”

Akaashi continued taking inventory, hoping the person would just move one.

“I said, _hey._ ” A hand fell on his shoulder, making him flinch, and he looked up to see none other than Kuroo.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, naturally.”

Naturally. Nothing about this meeting was natural. Akaashi’s battle senses were going haywire, telling him that if he wasn’t going to run he had best be prepared to fight.

“How did you find me?” Akaashi asked coolly. Kuroo grinned.

“It’s a small town, buddy, and there are only so many grocery stores.” His smile fell almost at once though. “Whatever you did to Bokuto, you need to make it right.”

“I didn’t do anything—”

“Don’t try to play the innocent card. He’s been dejected for days, ever since he came back from your place.”

Dejected? Akaashi hadn’t expected him to take the name issue so hard. If he had known—no, even if he had known, it didn’t change things. He couldn’t give up his angel name. Kuroo didn’t seem happy with his continued silence either, brow furrowing as he leaned more into Akaashi’s space.

“I don’t know what you did or said or whatever, but I’m telling you to fix it.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Figure it out.”

He turned to go, but paused, looking back over his shoulder. He was smiling again but it didn’t reach his dark eyes.

“And if you ever hurt my boy again, I’ll end you.”

The threat was voiced calmly, conversationally. Akaashi didn’t quite feel a chill, but it was a near thing. He nodded. He didn’t want Bokuto hurting either, but figured trying to express that would only be a step backwards.

Kuroo left.

“Hey, was that Kuroo Tetsurou?” Konoha said, appearing at the end of the aisle and squinting after his retreating back.

“It was.” Akaashi eyed him suspiciously. “Are you two acquainted?”

“Well, I mean, in a manner of speaking—gosh, he looks like he’s rushing somewhere. I’ll have to ask Bokuto how he’s doing.”

Akaashi was thunderstruck.

“Bokuto Koutarou?” he asked, hesitant. It was Konoha’s turn to stare.

“You know Bokuto? How do _you_ know Bokuto?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Akaashi returned to taking inventory but his mind was buzzing, blank. The words on his clipboard meant nothing to his swimming vision.

“We were teammates, back in our high school days, of course! We don’t keep in touch that much anymore, but we’re still pals—hey, are you all right?”

Was there no one in this town that didn’t play volleyball?

Akaashi’s stomach was twisted in knots. He didn’t know why. Why did it matter that all these people he knew were interconnected?

“I’m fine,” he replied blandly.

“So you never said how you know Bo.”

_Bo._ The nickname made him feel even worse. Akaashi gripped his clipboard so hard that it cracked in his hands with a resounding snap that made Konoha jump.

“Ah,” Akaashi said, hearing how cold his tone was and unable to fix it. Or perhaps unwilling, too. “How clumsy of me.”

“Yeah, man,” Konoha said with a nervous laugh, “those things are flimsy as shit. Should be extras in the breakroom somewhere.”

Akaashi left without another word, even though Konoha called after him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi called Bokuto after he got off work. There was no answer, so he sent a text.

_Kuroo came by, said you’ve been feeling down._

He texted back with his normal alacrity.

_Kuroo’s a fucking liar._

Akaashi frowned. The anger in the message was unlike the Bokuto he knew.

_Then why not answer my call?_

_Didn’t feel like talking._

_We’re talking now._

_It’s different okay._

Akaashi sighed, shoving the phone in his pocket for the next few blocks. His breath fogged up the air as he walked faster and faster, a new destination in mind other than home.

_Are you home?_

_Yeah?_

_Come downstairs._

It took a few minutes, but Bokuto eventually appeared, hair damp and down; he looked much different than how he did when it was styled. More vulnerable. He looked uncertain as he stepped outside to join Akaashi on the stoop.

“What are you doing here, Akaashi?”

“I came to see you,” he replied easily, unable to draw his gaze away from him.

“Well, yeah, but,” he hesitated, huddling down into his jacket with a shiver and shifting from foot to foot, “like specifically. Did you want something?”

“To apologize. I hurt your feelings and I’m sorry. By not telling you my given name.”

Bokuto flinched.

“And that’s the last thing I wanted to do. Hurting you, I mean.” Akaashi stepped closer, putting his hands on Bokuto’s arms and squeezing gently. “Please believe me when I say it’s nothing personal. It’s my own issue that I’m dealing with.”

Bokuto mumbled something he couldn’t hear.

“I can’t hear—”

“I said it’s okay. I overreacted. You don’t have to tell me.”

In a way, Akaashi wanted to tell him—tell him everything, there on steps leading up to his apartment, the weather too cold to be standing outside in the first place. But he knew it wasn’t the right time. And he just…couldn’t. He couldn’t risk potentially ruining their relationship as it was.

“Your reaction is just that—your reaction. It’s as valid as anything.” Iwaizumi had told him the same thing repeatedly, as if by rote, all throughout his first month on Earth.

Bokuto laughed softly, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against Akaashi’s shoulder. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Not always, obviously.”

They stood that way for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Akaashi certainly was willing to stand there forever, but Bokuto eventually straightened up with a genuine smile on his face.

“Thanks for coming by, Akaashi. It means a lot to me. Did you want to come upstairs?”

“No, I should go. I have an early shift tomorrow.” Before Akaashi could step back, Bokuto grabbed his hand. His skin was cold but Akaashi still felt warmth at his touch.

“Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

Something about his statement felt heavy, significant. Akaashi couldn’t place his finger on what it was though, even as he began his walk home.

_I’m home._

_Good! Goodnight, Akaashi!_

_Goodnight, Bokuto._

_Sweet dreams!_

Akaashi felt tears spring to his eyes as he thought of what awaited him when he closed his eyes. He couldn’t respond so he plugged in his phone to charge and curled under the blankets until sleep chased him down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas came without much ceremony.

Feeling brave, Akaashi tried his hand at baking. He ended up buying cookies from the store, but thought the fact that he had tried was worth something. And he hadn’t burned his apartment down like Oikawa warned him he probably would.

He opened the windows to clear out the burnt smell while he went out on some last minute errands, collecting enough food for his evening with Bokuto. On impulse, he bought some lights to tack up on the walls, and an extra blanket for the couch.

The lights reminded him of home. His real home. It made him feel both lonely and comforted at the same time, staring at them in the relative dark of his apartment.

Scoffing at himself, Akaashi flicked the overhead lights back on and put away the thumbtacks.

The doorbell rang. That could only be one person.

A smile came to his face as he went to let Bokuto in.

Bokuto was upon him with a hug before he could even say hello, his clothes cold from the outdoors but his body beneath them quite warm. Akaashi was getting used to his hugs, enough to return it tightly.

“Merry Christmas!” he said cheerfully, tossing his backpack down and beginning to strip off his layers. Then he frowned. “Why’s the window open?”

“Failed baking experiment,” Akaashi admitted reluctantly, going to close it. The chill didn’t bother him, but he didn’t want Bokuto getting cold.

“Aw, you tried to bake for me? Akaashi, that’s so—so sweet!”

“Hardly. I was making them for me, too.” He nodded towards the table, where he had set out the takeout he had ordered. “Food’s already here, if you want to eat.”

“Hell yeah! Kuroo’s been keeping me barred from the kitchen,” he said with a pout, taking a seat.

They chatted while they ate. Or, well, Bokuto did most of the chatting, and Akaashi added a few words here and there. And Bokuto was excited about the cookies, even though they weren’t homemade.

“Do you want your gift now or later?” Akaashi asked as he cleared away the plates. Bokuto insisted on helping with clean up, though there wasn’t much to do besides throw away the empty containers and put the plates in the dishwasher.

“Now!” he exclaimed, taking a seat on the couch. He spotted the new blanket and made a happy noise, pulling it down and wrapping it around his shoulders like a cloak. Akaashi smiled at the sight and went to fetch his gift.

“It’s nothing big,” he warned Bokuto as he tore into the bag.

“But it’s from _you._ ”

He fell silent and still as he pulled out the owl and stared it in the face.

“Most of the money goes towards a wild animal rescue and rehabilitation center,” Akaashi explained as Bokuto turned the stuffed owl over and over in his hands. When he finally looked up, his eyes were bright and he was grinning.

“This is perfect, Akaashi!”

He launched himself forward, latching onto him in a great big, warm hug that Akaashi returned after only a brief moment of hesitation.

“Open yours now, open yours!” Bokuto seemed just as excited for him to open his present as he had been to open his own. He let go of Akaashi and instead huddled against his side while Akaashi opened his present.

It was a sweater.

Akaashi wasn’t much of an expert on fashion, but there seemed to be a lot of clashing stripes of color and the big green tree on the front only added to the overall eye-burning effect.

Akaashi swore he had seen Bokuto wearing the very same sweater before.

“Now we can match!” Bokuto said, excited, confirming Akaashi suspicions. Shaking his head, Akaashi pulled the sweater on over his head. “Besides, I haven’t seen you wear one festive thing this winter, so I figured you could use some holiday cheer!”

“It’s very nice, Bokuto.” It was slightly oversized and warm, and more importantly, it carried the other man’s scent. “Very…warm.”

“So you like it?”

“I like it.”

“Good. “

Bokuto still hadn’t moved from his spot, scrunched in right next to Akaashi. Akaashi was helplessly aware of him breathing, of his every move.

“Here,” Bokuto threw the edge of the blanket around Akaashi’s shoulders and moved in even closer. “Now you won’t be cold either.”

Akaashi was certain he would never be cold again.

Bokuto didn’t seem to notice his flaming face, because he was pulling out his phone, talking about how he had found this one video he just _knew_ Akaashi would love. Akaashi could hardly pay attention, but did his best, and that was how the rest of the night went.

“Hey, so…just checking, but I can stay here for the night, right?” he asked when the conversation slowly died down and began to be punctuated with more yawns than words.

“Of course. If you want.”

“Oh thank god, because I’m pretty sure Kuroo and Kenma are…y’know. Don’t really want to walk in on them in the middle of it.”

“Shall we go to bed?” Akaashi said.

“Yeah, I think it’s about time.” Bokuto sighed as Akaashi stood and threw a pillow his way.

“Something wrong?”

“You just…seem so far away over in that corner.”

“I can move—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m good.” He stretched out on the couch, snuggling into the pillow and holding his stuffed owl in his arms. “Goodnight, Akaashi.”

“Goodnight, Bokuto.”

Akaashi went to bed still wearing his new sweater.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“—ashi—”

He kept struggling to get away, but something had a hold of him.

“—kaashi—”

Akaashi’s eyes snapped open, grabbing tight hold of his mystery attacker.

“Akaashi, it’s me!”

Bokuto. That was Bokuto’s voice.

He blinked several times and Bokuto came into view leaning above him, holding onto his shoulders, his aching, aching shoulders. His back burned with pain with every gasping breath he took.

“Bokuto,” he said hoarsely, slowly loosening the grip he had on his shirtfront. “What are you doing?”

“You were having some kind of nightmare, kept yelling out. I was worried.” He still hadn’t let go of him. “Are you okay?”

Akaashi was tempted to go take some painkillers but that would require moving. And they probably wouldn’t do him much good anyhow.

“I’m fine,” he lied, trying to push aside the too-vivid dream. “It’s nothing.”

“But it’s not nothing! You sounded so _scared_ , Akaashi. Tell me what’s going on.”

Akaashi pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw spots. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered. “Just go back to sleep.”

Bokuto was silent for a while.

“You gotta let go, first,” he pointed out. Akaashi dropped his hands as though he’d been burned. But instead of standing and returning to the couch, Bokuto gently pushed him over on the bed and climbed in right next to him.

“What are you—”

“You don’t want to talk about it, fine. But I’m not leaving you. Not after that.”

Akaashi didn’t have the willpower to argue with him.

There wasn’t much space for one person in the bed, let alone two, but they made do, huddling close to each other. Akaashi fell asleep.

He woke up one more time, to Bokuto hushing him. There were tears streaming down his face and he latched onto Bokuto, unashamed, with both arms, pressing his face into his chest. He felt a lot like screaming, but he didn’t. The sound of his heartbeat eventually soothed him back to sleep.

This time, he didn’t dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Akaashi woke up, Bokuto was already out of bed, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, his hair even more wild than usual.

Akaashi stumbled into the kitchen, trying to surreptitiously swallow his painkillers down, but he could feel Bokuto’s eyes tracking his every movement.

“Is it like that for you, a lot?”

“What?”

“Sleeping. Do you…have those dreams a lot?”

_Every night, almost._ Akaashi’s silence must have been answer enough. Bokuto sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“No wonder you look so tired all the time. Promise me something, okay?”

“What?” Akaashi asked cautiously.

“That if you wake up like that, you’ll call me. Text me. Or something.”

“It’s not my place to trouble you with such things,” Akaashi said stiffly, pouring himself a cup of coffee and liberally adding sugar.

“Well, I’m telling you to.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” Bokuto stood and came over, staring at him hard for a moment before hugging him. “You’re not alone, okay?

“Okay.” Akaashi felt shaky. The coffee probably wasn’t helping, not that he’d drank much of it yet. He leaned a little into Bokuto’s touch, hating himself for being so weak.

Bokuto hung out with him until he got an all-clear text from Kenma.

“I can stay longer, if you want,” he said, eyeing Akaashi dubiously, hugging his stuffed owl to his chest as they stood at the door.

“I’ll be fine.” Akaashi almost attempted a smile, but thought better of it. He settled for his usual neutral expression instead of the grimace of pain he really wanted to show. “I promise.”

That seemed to relax Bokuto.

“All right. I’ll text you later then! Bye, Akaashi!”

Akaashi closed the door, turning his back to it and sliding down to the floor, pressing a hand over his mouth.

He hadn’t wanted Bokuto to go, but that was selfish. Selfish, selfish. He had his own life, his own _problems_ without Akaashi adding more to the mix.

He crawled back into bed, coffee forgotten, still wearing his hideous sweater.

Oikawa texted him sometime later, asking if his ‘sexcapades’ had gone well.

Akaashi ignored him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 “Hey, you’re going to temple, right?”

Akaashi looked over at Bokuto, then at Kuroo and Kenma who were also watching him expectantly.

“For New Years?” Bokuto prompted further.

Akaashi looked back at the movie playing on-screen but it was too late; he was officially lost.

“I hadn’t been planning on it,” he said carefully.

“What! But everybody goes to temple,” Bokuto said with a pout. “I was going to invite you to come with us.”

“If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“No, I don’t want you to go just because _I_ want you to.”

Akaashi couldn’t very well say _I’ve never been before_. Not without garnering a strange reaction that he didn’t want.

“I want to go,” he clarified, “but I didn’t want to go alone.”

“Well, lucky you,” Kuroo said dryly. “Sounds like it’s a date.” Akaashi eyed him sideways. He was uncertain of where he stood with the other man, after making up with Bokuto. He acted like nothing had changed, like he had never confronted him at all, so perhaps that was good.

Bokuto didn’t pay him any attention, too busy smiling at Akaashi.

“Awesome! So meet us here at eight?”

Akaashi nodded.

“There’s a tradition, every New Year, of going to temple,” Oikawa explained over dinner. “To pray for good luck and good health for the coming year.”

Akaashi shivered at the word _pray._ Iwaizumi stared at him, hard.

“It’s a fancy to-do,” he added. “Dress nicely.”

“By dress nicely, he means buy something new to wear for once,” Iwaizumi grunted out. “Or he won’t let you come along with us.”

Akaashi poked at his food for a few moments.

“I’m already going with someone else.”

“What,” Oikawa half-shouted, slamming a hand down on the table. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, hunching his shoulders and focusing on his food.

“I’m already going with someone else,” Akaashi repeated.

“Are you really? Or are you just trying to get out of going because there will be _people?_ ”

“He deals with people every day, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, ignoring Oikawa’s squawk of indignation at the name-calling. “And he’s probably going with Lover Boy. What, am I wrong?” he said when Akaashi glared at him.

“His name,” he said deliberately, “is Bokuto.”

Iwaizumi shrugged and kept eating.

“Bokuto? That name sounds familiar.” Oikawa mused.

“He said he played volleyball with you once.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. “ _That_ Bokuto? That asshole nearly cost me a game back in high school!” He reached across the table and grabbed Akaashi’s arm. “You have to introduce us.”

“I don’t think so.”

Oikawa’s grip tightened.

“Introduce us and I’ll go shopping with you for clothes.”

Akaashi gave him an even look.

“I’ll go shopping _for_ you?” he offered.

“Just leave him be, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said. “He wants to spend the night with his boy, not with us.”

“But we saved him. He _owes_ us.”

“You really want me around?” Akaashi asked.

“Don’t be stupid, Akaashi. We’re friends now, like it or not.” He let Akaashi go, sitting back down in his chair and going back to eating. “I’ll let it slide for New Years, but you do have to introduce us properly to this Bokuto of yours.”

“I will. One day.”

As long as it wasn’t anytime soon. Akaashi wasn’t sure how well he could handle all three of his friends at once, especially with what was sure to be the messy combination of Oikawa and Bokuto.

“He has a point about the clothes thing, you know,” Iwaizumi said as he walked Akaashi to the door. He shoved a container of leftovers into his hands before he could argue, and then dropped a few bills on top of the container. “Buy yourself something nice.”

“I can pay my own way.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Then don’t take it. I don’t care. Consider it an apology for dumping you on Christmas.”

Akaashi looked down at his shoes. He put the money in his jacket pocket. Iwaizumi grunted, obviously pleased with himself, and clapped a solid hand to his arm.

“Don’t take the praying thing to heart. It’s just nice time to celebrate with friends.”

Akaashi nodded and left.

He spent several hours on Wikipedia—his new favorite website—researching what people usually wore for New Year’s celebrations, but was still unsure of what to do.

_What are you wearing?_ he texted to Bokuto.

_WHAT???_

_For New Years,_ he clarified, wondering what was wrong.

_Oh haha well I’ve got traditional clothes so I’m wearing that! What about you?_

_Not sure yet._

_Kuroo and Kenma are wearing traditional too! You should get that!_

Akaashi shook his head. He could barely manage normal clothes. _We’ll see._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He managed to find some traditional clothes, but had to convince Oikawa to help him put them on for New Year’s.

“—and that’s it! You’re all set.” He took a step back, eyeing his handiwork. Akaashi obediently held still for him, awaiting his judgement.

“Do I look…”

“You look normal,” Oikawa said, giving him a thumbs up.

“You look good,” Iwaizumi said as he passed by. “Better hurry up and go.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the help. I’ll be going now.” He hesitated, then bowed slightly to both of them. “Thank you for taking care of me this year.”

It seemed like the right thing to say, but they both stared at him in shock, disbelieving.

“Did you hear that? Our baby bird’s being _nice_.” Oikawa sniffed, wiping away an invisible tear. “He’s all grown up.”

“Shove it,” Akaashi said, and left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With a deep breath, Akaashi rang the doorbell.

The door flew open at once, revealing a grinning Bokuto dressed in gold. Akaashi’s breath caught for just a moment— _his wings were golden—_

“Wow, Akaashi! Wow!”

Kuroo poked his head around Bokuto, eyebrows raised.

“You clean up nice, bud.”

Akaashi glanced down at himself. His clothes were a simple green, nothing fancy. When he looked back up, they were still staring, impressed.

“Do I look that bad normally?” he asked dryly.

“What, no,” Bokuto exclaimed. “You just look _extra_ nice today.” Kuroo snorted and muttered something Akaashi didn’t hear—but Bokuto must have because he flushed red.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” Kenma called from inside the apartment. He appeared, his hair neatly combed and dressed in reds like Kuroo was.

They walked together down the street, headed to the local shrine. Akaashi had never been there before, content to avoid anything that reminded him of his former life.

It was more beautiful than he had imagined. He followed mindlessly after the others, staring around him in appreciation. He didn’t pay much mind to the other people milling about either. Seeing the shrine made him feel a heart-wrenching pang of loneliness, but there was such an underlying sense of peace to the place that it was easy enough to push aside.

They stood in line, rang the bell, prayed.

“Let’s go draw our fortunes,” Bokuto said excitedly.

“How old are you,” Kuroo laughed, even as he followed after.

Kenma raised his brows at Akaashi, as if saying _shall we?_

“Hey, hey, what’d you get, Akaashi?” Bokuto moved over into his space until they bumped shoulders. “‘Good luck’! Not bad at all! That’s a keeper.”

“What did you get?”

“Great luck!” he said proudly, showing it off.

That was good.

The rest of the night passed in a blur to Akaashi. They remained at the shrine for sunrise, because according to the others, it was the best spot to watch it from in town.

They were nearly back to Bokuto’s place when a car drove by too quickly, splashing up water. Akaashi quickly pushed Bokuto out of the way, shielding him from the spray with his body. He looked at him with his golden eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Akaashi could feel Kuroo and Kenma staring too, but he didn’t care.

“Akaashi! You’re soaked!” Bokuto gingerly touched his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that man, what if you get sick now?”

Akaashi didn’t know what to say.

“Why don’t you come take a shower at our place?” Kenma offered, while Bokuto continued to fuss.

“That…would be nice,” Akaashi conceded. “Thank you.”

Their bathroom smelled like a combination of the three men, and three radically different soap choices. While Bokuto gave him a quick rundown of how the shower worked, Akaashi surreptitiously rubbed at his nose.

“And uh, my soap is the orange soap so maybe stick to that one? Kuroo wouldn’t care but Kenma gets touchy about people using his soap.” He scratched at his head and backed slowly out of the bathroom. “I’ll get you some clothes to borrow and leave ‘em outside the door, okay? Bye! Have a nice shower!”

He sped off, slamming the door behind him as he went. Akaashi shook his head slowly, wondering what was going on in his head.

He took his time in the shower. He didn’t mean to, he meant to just rinse off and be done with it, but the water pressure at their home was better than his, and it eased the pain in his back. By the time he got out, the mirror was fogged up. He wiped it away, looking himself over.

He looked like a stranger.

Akaashi toweled off quickly, avoiding his reflection, and cracked the door open to retrieve the clothes Bokuto said he would leave.

They were soft. Warm. They smelled like Bokuto. Akaashi glanced at himself one last time, towel thrown around his shoulders. Still a stranger. But at least he looked less like he might fall apart at a single touch.

When he stepped out into the living room, only Bokuto was there, waiting on the couch.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, startling him up onto his feet. “For the shower. And the clothes.”

“Akaashi! You have to dry your hair properly!” Bokuto scolded, taking the towel that had been draped around his shoulders and rubbing it over his head. Akaashi held still for him, half in shock at the unexpected touch.

“There, that’s better.” Bokuto smiled at him, tossing the towel aside. “Wouldn’t want you catching a cold!”

“I don’t get sick,” Akaashi said faintly.

“Better safe than sorry.”

They were quiet for a while, a strange tension rising between them.

“I’ll wash these before returning them,” Akaashi eventually said, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay.”

“I…should go.”

“Are you sure? You’re welcome to sleep over,” Bokuto said, voice rising into a question. Akaashi shook his head, even though the offer sounded pleasant.

“I have work. Thank you though.”

Bokuto wilted a little but nodded. “I understand. Text me when you get home. And Akaashi,” he smiled, “happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Bokuto.”

Akaashi felt sluggish all through his shift, taking cat naps in the breakroom when he could. He hadn’t changed out of Bokuto’s clothes, drawing comfort from wearing them. He was going to wash them anyway, so it didn’t matter, surely, how long he wore them for.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The next day he felt positively _awful._

He could barely stand straight, his head felt heavy and he was burning up with heat, delirious.

Akaashi had the presence of mind to call Iwaizumi.

“Something’s wrong with me,” he said around a cough. “I can’t work.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brusque and curious at once.

“Something. I don’t know.” Akaashi closed his eyes tightly as a stabbing pain went through his head. He hung up on Iwaizumi, having nothing else to say, even though he was in the middle of saying something to him.

He fell back into a fitful sleep.

The doorbell rang.

Akaashi tried to stand, failed, and decided whoever it was could come back on a day when he didn’t feel like death itself.

He dimly heard the door open.

A burglar?

But it was only Iwaizumi who appeared.

“Brother,” Akaashi rasped out, vision blurry as he squinted up at Iwaizumi. Where were his wings? He couldn’t feel his wings. “Brother, something’s wrong with me.”

He didn’t reply for several moments. Akaashi couldn’t focus on his face to see what the matter was.

“You’re sick,” Iwaizumi said, almost gentle. “You’re sick, Akaashi, that’s all.”

Akaashi grabbed for the nearest part of Iwaizumi—his leg—and attempted to drag him closer to no avail. He felt weak. “Help me, brother,” he pleaded. “I can’t feel my wings.”

More silence. How bad was the damage that he couldn’t feel them? How bad was it that Iwaizumi would not say? Akaashi held onto him tighter until Iwaizumi reached down and yanked his hand off, pressing it to his chest.

“We don’t have wings anymore,” he said, tone flat.

Pain bloomed all up his spine as he remembered the Fall. Akaashi choked back a sob. That couldn’t be right. He would never—no. It couldn’t be true. Unable to sit up, he rolled and awkwardly reached around his back. Instead of being met with feathers, he was met with empty space. Delicate shoulder-blades and the knobs of his spine.

It couldn’t be true.

Tears slipped freely down his face. Akaashi curled miserably in on himself. “Help me, brother,” he repeated in a whisper, knowing there was no help. Not for this. He heard Iwaizumi sigh, stand up from his crouched position.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Stay there. I’ll get you some medicine.”

As if Akaashi could go anywhere. He wept softly. Mourning.

Iwaizumi returned and forced him to drink a foul tasting liquid, tucking the blankets Akaashi had kicked off around him again. He helped him drink some water, too, holding the glass steady at his lips. Then he sat beside him, listening to him cry in silence.

Akaashi slept. He knew he slept because he dreamed of horrors.

When he woke, Iwaizumi was still there, sitting a vigil at his bedside. He still felt weak and overall terrible, but no longer delirious with fever.

“Brother,” Akaashi said, reaching out and touching his knee. “You should go home.”

Iwaizumi went tense.

Akaashi’s words caught up with him. _Brother._ That was a word meant for Heaven, not Earth.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Iwaizumi said, “brother.” He offered up a half-smile that Akaashi hesitantly returned.

The doorbell rang, startling them both. Iwaizumi stood and went to go answer the door while Akaashi struggled into a sitting position. He didn’t know who it could possibly be because the only people who knew where he lived was Iwaizumi and—

Bokuto.

Of course. Bokuto and he had made plans. He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten?

He could hear his familiar, boisterous voice coming from the doorway. Akaashi tried to call out to Iwaizumi to tell him to send him away so that Bokuto wouldn’t catch this awful sickness, but it was too late; the two of them came padding over to the bed, Iwaizumi looking vaguely irritated and Bokuto looking worried.

“Akaashi!” He fell to his knees by the bed, clasping one of his hands. “You look awful. You should have texted me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Akaashi paused to cough. “You’ll get sick too.”

“I tried to send him away, but your boyfriend was insistent that he see you,” Iwaizumi drawled out. Akaashi could only imagine what Bokuto had said to him.

But Bokuto was spluttering.

“B-B-Boyfriend?” he said. “That’s—we’re not—”

“Are you not?” Iwaizumi’s irritation was fading into amusement at Bokuto’s discomfort. “Akaashi mentioned having dates with you.”

“D-Dates?” Bokuto laughed but it was forced. “Maybe—maybe like _friend_ dates, but we’ve never…Akaashi, tell him we’re not dating.”

Akaashi stared at Bokuto, awash with confusion. “Are we not?”

Bokuto’s jaw dropped, golden eyes wide. Iwaizumi coughed, too loud, and muttered something about getting some water and left the room. Bokuto just kept staring, but Akaashi didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

“Perhaps I’ve been using the wrong word,” Akaashi finally said stiffly. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s just—boyfriend?” He was red-faced, looking a bit dazed. “Not that I _don’t_ want to be your boyfriend or anything, but neither of us asked the other properly and—I didn’t know you thought of us that way? I mean, I’m happy, don’t get me wrong, but it’s confusing to know you’ve been talking about me like that to your friends.” Bokuto trailed off, rubbing a hand through his wild hair.

“I never referred to you as my boyfriend,” Akaashi said slowly.

“But you said we went on dates? That’s like…boyfriend stuff.”

_Ah._

“Perhaps I’ve been using the wrong word,” Akaashi repeated faintly. Served him right for using Iwaizumi and Oikawa as his basis for what was normal.

“But this must mean that you like me, huh.” Bokuto finally looked up at him, almost shy, gaze hopeful.

“Of course I like you.” Akaashi reached out, then thought better of it. He didn’t want to get Bokuto sick.

“Like in a romantic way, I mean. A boyfriend-ly way.”

“I…” Akaashi hesitated, thinking it over. Bokuto’s friendship was very special to him. No one on Earth made him happy like he did. “I suppose I do, yes.”

Bokuto’s face broke out into a slow smile. He took Akaashi’s hand between his own and looked down at it thoughtfully.

“Then Akaashi, will you go out with me?”

“Bokuto, I’m too sick to go anywhere—”

“I mean, will you be my boyfriend? For real this time?”

Akaashi’s heart was hammering in his chest like he had been running. He felt a little bit like running, beneath the weight of his illness, running from the commitment Bokuto was asking for. He was a fallen angel. Broken. He couldn’t give him a normal, healthy, _human_ relationship. And those were all things that Bokuto deserved.

_But he wants me,_ the selfish part of his mind insisted. _He could have anyone, but he wants me._

“I will,” Akaashi said, squeezing his hand back. “I will.”

Bokuto let out a whoop, was promptly hushed by an again irritated Iwaizumi, and Akaashi fell back asleep with Bokuto still holding his hand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being official boyfriends didn’t seem to change much. They still hung out together, still had movies nights over at Bokuto’s place. Bokuto would sit closer to him, would let his hands linger when he touched him, but otherwise everything was the same.

Akaashi was happy.

Iwaizumi seemed happy for him, but Oikawa was more hesitant.

One night, he finally spoke about his reservations.

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you are— _were_ an angel.”

Akaashi’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t have to tell anyone shit about that.”

“Well, no. But if you don’t tell him, there’s a part of you that will always be lying to him.” Oikawa inspected his fingernails closely. “I’m not trying to force your hand, obviously. I just know how you feel about lying.”

“Obviously,” Akaashi repeated snidely, because that was exactly what Oikawa was trying to do. The other man sighed.

“When will you get that I’m on your side, Akaashi?”

“When you start acting like it, probably.” Akaashi looked away from his scandalized expression and squinted out at the sunlight bouncing off the thin layer of snow that had fallen. “What you and Iwaizumi have—I don’t need that. I don’t want that.”

They were a special case. And the only thing Akaashi wanted was Bokuto.

“I just think having someone you can trust with anything is important. That’s what I want for you. What Hajime and I have is special, but it’s not unattainable.”

The use of Iwaizumi’s true name got Akaashi’s attention. When Akaashi met Oikawa’s gaze once more, he found him serious. Contemplative.

“You thought he was an alien when you first met,” Akaashi couldn’t help sending a jab, but Oikawa just grinned.

“I still don’t think I was that far off.”

Akaashi had listened to Oikawa wax poetic about the difference between aliens and angels—in his estimation, very little difference at all—too many times to let this conversation go down that road.

“No human would accept the truth.”

“I’m human.”

“You witnessed Iwaizumi’s Fall firsthand, you don’t count.”

“Well.” Oikawa clapped his hands together and stood back to let Akaashi pass by. “You never know until you try, right?”

“Save your optimism for someone else,” Akaashi said curtly, making sure to bump his shoulder as he walked by. Oikawa _tsk_ ed softly but let him go.

Akaashi tried to pretend that it was the wind making his eyes prick with stinging tears.

He couldn’t lose Bokuto. He couldn’t.

But neither could he keep up this normal human façade. Not forever.

He dreamed that night, dreamed of his life before the Fall. Dreamed of flying. Dreamed of all that power at his command.

He woke up shaking, in tears, and grabbed for his phone, sending out a message before he could think better of it.

_Are you awake?_

Akaashi placed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, hard, until he could see spots flashing across his vision.

_Am now._

_Do you remember flying?_

There was another few minutes before he gave a reply.

_I remember._

Akaashi cried harder, feeling worse for having made Iwaizumi think of it. But the phone pinged with another incoming message from him.

_I remember standing tall at the top of the world. I remember all the battles we fought, for the sake of Heaven. I remember what it was like to be limitless. I remember our siblings faces, their names. Sometimes I think I see them, walking the Earth. Sometimes I carry knives, to remind me of my blade. I remember my wings._

Akaashi typed out a shaky, _Me too._

_I remember the Fall._

_How am I supposed to survive this?_

Akaashi drew the blankets around his aching shoulders, pretending they were his wings, while he waited.

Iwaizumi’s answer was strangely comforting.

_What else can we do?_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Iwaizumi was almost gentle with him the next day at work, sparing quiet touches to his shoulder, staying silent where he usually would have prodded and questioned.

When they found themselves alone in the breakroom, Iwaizumi finally spoke to him.

“You find something worth living for,” he said without preamble, not looking at him. “You find it, and you don’t let go, no matter what. That’s how you survive.”

Akaashi just looked at him for a while, until Iwaizumi looked up, his dark eyes shockingly open and vulnerable.

“Oikawa?” he asked, already half-knowing. Iwaizumi nodded once, short.

“For me. Yeah. Doesn’t have to be a person. But you’ll find something.”

Akaashi thought of Bokuto. Wondered. But by that time, someone else entered the breakroom and Iwaizumi’s prickly walls came slamming back down, leaving Akaashi alone with his thoughts and his memories.

He had to tell him.

Akaashi invited Bokuto over under the guise of hanging out, but Bokuto seemed to notice something was off right away, not even stepping inside before asking what was wrong.

“It’s nothing.” At Bokuto’s frown, Akaashi sighed. “Well, not nothing. I have something important to tell you.”

“You’re not moving away, are you?” Bokuto asked in a rush.

“What—no. Why would you…no. Just, come inside. Please.”

Bokuto did, slowly toeing off his shoes and then just standing there.

“Sit down. It’ll be better that way.”

“Akaashi, you’re scaring me,” Bokuto said nervously. But he sat.

Silence fell.

“Do you have cancer?” Bokuto asked, his voice soft and scared and sad. “Or like—are you sick? Somehow?”

“No.”

“Then will you please tell me what’s going on here?”

“I’m an angel,” Akaashi forced out, barely able to meet Bokuto’s curious gaze. Bokuto blinked slowly at him. “A fallen angel,” Akaashi amended, though it still hurt to admit to.

“What are you talking about, Akaashi?” Bokuto said, with a nervous, tittering kind of laugh. With a soft sigh, Akaashi looked away. Of course it was too much to ask that he believe without proof.

Akaashi gathered the tattered remains of his Grace to him, letting the light infuse him.

Bokuto gasped, scrambling up from his chair so quickly that it fell to the ground.

“What—what—you’re a—”

“—a fallen angel,” Akaashi supplied when Bokuto fell silent. Bokuto just stared and stared, unmoving and silent. Akaashi let go of his Grace and fidgeted in place, waiting for his judgement.

“Do that again,” Bokuto said, barely audible. Akaashi sighed but gathered his Grace once more. It stung, beneath his skin, but the pain was bearable. Bokuto slowly stepped closer, eyes roving over him. Akaashi wasn’t sure what exactly it was he saw.

Bokuto cupped Akaashi’s cheek with one calloused hand, thumb brushing over the arch of his cheekbone. Akaashi shivered at this slightest of touches, selfishly leaning into it when Bokuto made to pull away.

“You’re beautiful,” Bokuto said in a hushed voice, leaning their heads close enough together that their foreheads brushed.

_I’m broken,_ Akaashi wanted to say but the words were stuck in his throat.

“I mean, you’re always beautiful, but—is this a dream?”

Akaashi threaded his fingers through Bokuto’s, assuring him of their solidity. Bokuto squeezed his hand tight and Akaashi squeezed back. “It’s not a dream.”

“And I’m not crazy. You’re really…”

“I’m really.”

“Wow. I mean—wow.”

Akaashi let go of his Grace once more, letting it fade back away. Bokuto stayed, much to his relief.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I don’t know,” Bokuto answered. It sounded like the truth.

“This is a lot to take in,” Bokuto said, “but I want to make this work. I want to make us work. And I think we can do it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, fallen angel. Which means you fell. How did you fall? Can I ask that?”

Akaashi sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It hurt. But Bokuto’s touch, Bokuto’s presence was grounding. Safe territory. “I disobeyed an order,” he said quietly, sadly. “And the punishment was this.”

“Well, at least they didn’t kill you.”

Akaashi didn’t mention that he sometimes still wished they had done just that. But Bokuto seemed to read it on his face.

“Akaashi, I only meant—I can’t imagine how terrible it must have been for you, but we’re together now, right? If you died, we never would have met.”

He was right. But of course he was right.

“You’re right,” he murmured, opening his eyes. Bokuto was so close. Closer than they’d ever been, even though they were boyfriends now. Akaashi’s eyes dropped to his lips, full and slightly parted. “Can I kiss you?”

“How do you get from ‘hey, I’m an angel’ to wanting to kiss me?” Bokuto asked with a strangled laugh. His cheeks were red.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you,” Akaashi said, a bit indignant.

“Always?”

“Always.”

“O-Okay.”

Akaashi looked back up at his eyes, so golden, so perfect.

“Is that a yes?” he said softly.

By the time his lips closed on the last syllable, Bokuto’s mouth was on his—and it was just as warm as he had imagined, but softer, somehow sweet even though he tasted like the dumplings he’d had for dinner.

“Stay,” Akaashi offered, voice more pleading than he liked. Bokuto’s face fell.

“I have work in the morning. I have to go back home.” He curled his arms around Akaashi, tight, and muttered a ‘sorry’ against his shoulder. Akaashi closed his eyes, breathing in his scent surrounding him, holding him back just as tight.

“But I’ve got this weekend off. I can stay then. If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“Okay.” Bokuto kissed his cheek, his jaw, his lips again. “Okay. It’s a promise.”

_What happened to your wings?_ came the text later that night.

Akaashi curled in on himself, holding his phone so tightly that the plastic casing creaked under the pressure. The reminder made the constant pain in his shoulders and back more prominent.

_I lost them._

_How?_

Tears sprang to his eyes.

_Too personal?_ Bokuto immediately asked.

_Yes._

_Sorry, sorry._

_It’s…okay._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were torn from him, bone by bone, piece by piece, until there was nothing but blood, blood, blood, everywhere. No amount of screaming or pleading with them to stop gave any relief; they were as relentless as dogs on the scent.

They were torn from him and he Fell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Akaashi opened the door to Bokuto when he rang. Bokuto smiled, a little awkward and held open his arms.

“I’m here, like I promised. All yours.”

Akaashi liked the sound of that. _Mine._ He stepped into Bokuto’s arm, hugging him tight, even though anyone could see them if they poked their heads out of their doors. Bokuto laughed a little, hugging him back, swaying them from side to side.

“Gonna let me in or what, Akaashi?”

“Come in.” He stepped back reluctantly, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Bokuto stripped off his coat and shoes, dropping them carelessly to the floor. Akaashi realized that he didn’t have a real reason for calling him over other than his own selfishness. His own loneliness.

His own desires.

“What shall we do?” he asked politely.

“Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

Bokuto took Akaashi’s hands and pulled him in close, kissing his knuckles.

“But first, a nap. You look like you haven’t sleep since—like, ever.”

Akaashi let himself be pulled to his bed and clambered in after Bokuto. They settled in together, legs and arms struggling to fit in the small space. It was warm. Akaashi stared at Bokuto, at the smattering of freckles on the bridge of his crooked nose, at the depth of his near-golden eyes, at the upturned corners of his lips.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded. “You can’t sleep with them open.”

Akaashi closed his eyes.

“Now, it’s my turn to be your guardian angel. No bad dreams can get you while I’m here with you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can try. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll try to make it better when you wake up. Sound fair?”

“Yes,” Akaashi breathed, burrowing his head into Bokuto’s chest. “Yes, that sounds fair.”

They napped for several hours, only waking up to eat and talk for a little while. Bokuto had a lot of questions, understandably, about Akaashi’s past. About what he used to be. Akaashi tried to answer what he could, but Bokuto let a lot of things slide.

He traced the scars of where Akaashi’s wings had been torn away, silent and pensieve. It hurt, but Akaashi let him do it.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I can still be sorry. I’m not sorry that you’re here now, but I’m sorry that this is what it took for you to get here.”

Akaashi swallowed a few more painkillers under Bokuto’s watchful eyes.

“Let’s just go back to bed,” Akaashi half-asked. Bokuto nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

There were a lot of things that Akaashi wanted but he didn’t know how to put it into words. So for now, sleeping together, that was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Akaashi opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Bokuto looking at him.

“You’re still here,” he said, voice raspy from sleep.

“Yeah. ‘course I am.”

Akaashi couldn’t help smiling. He snuggled closer, fitting his head neatly beneath Bokuto’s chin and sighing when Bokuto curled his arms around him.

“Hey, don’t go back to sleep on me,” Bokuto chided after a few minutes of silence passed. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for an hour.”

Akaashi groaned. “I’m tired, Bokuto. It’s my day off. I’m sleeping in.”

“It’s already _eleven._ How late do you usually sleep?”

Akaashi’s smile grew wider at how scandalized Bokuto sounded. As if sensing he was winning, Bokuto leaned back a little, brushing the hair back out of Akaashi’s face.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh?” Akaashi raised one eyebrow archly.

“Not—Not like that! I just meant I’ll make you breakfast!” Bokuto’s whole chest flushed red along with his cheeks. Akaashi thought he could definitely get used to that sight.

“Only teasing.” Akaashi pressed his lips to Bokuto’s collarbone before extricating himself, stretching and yawning widely. “Breakfast sounds great.”

He would get up early every day if it meant he could be with him. Breakfast or not.

“Keiji,” he said. Bokuto made a confused noise, watching him closely. Akaashi smiled fondly down at him, a great weight lifting from him. His shoulders barely hurt.

“My name’s Keiji.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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